Justice League Ponyland
by LM
Summary: Crossover insanity, and I do mean insanity! No previous pony or Justice League knowledge required. Updated with Ch. 24, in which Ted finally gets his cowl off and Booster frolics.
1. Prologue: Blue and Gold

  
  
_Disclaimer:_

All DC comics characters are owned (obviously) by DC. My Little Pony is owned by Hasbro. Used for entertainment, not profit. Please don't sue. 

(I'll be bouncing this story back and forth between the My Little Pony section of FF.net and the DC Superheroes section, since it really could be in either.)

* * *

_**Prologue**_

  
  
They called themselves Booster Gold and Blue Beetle and in many universes that fact alone would have introduced them to a padded cell, even without the costumes. 

Ah, the costumes. 

Booster Gold favored a form-fitting suit with a stiff upturned collar. The outfit was yellow, mainly, but slashed liberally with blue, including the star on Booster's chest and his mask--if it could be called a mask. It was really more like a blue sleeve that simply held his hair out of his eyes and supported his eye visor. Not much use for concealment . . . but that was hardly a concern for someone who filled out his IRS forms under his superhero name. 

The Blue Beetle, on the other hand, _did_ maintain a separate identity . . . less out of respect for tradition than out of fear of his alter ego's creditors. Ted Kord was an inventor, a tinkerer, and quite, quite bankrupt. Fortunately, the collection agencies probably wouldn't expect to find him jumping around the streets in blue spandex. Beetle had taken the color scheme and run with it, designing a costume with a light blue base and dark blue sleeves and boots--not to mention the stylized silhouette of insect legs reaching down over his ribs (also in dark blue.) His mask was a capeless blue cowl that incorporated a pair of amazingly (and amusingly) bulgy yellow goggles. Beetle had even designed the headpiece so that two small antennae were drawn onto it, rising above the goggles. There was no point in having a theme if you didn't stick to it, after all. 

Fortunately for Booster and Beetle, their society did NOT institutionalize those with an insatiable urge to dress like giant bugs or crazed refugees from Paris fashion shows. Rather, they were assumed to be one of three things. Superheroes. Supervillains. Or clowns. 

Some would argue that _two_ of those labels fit Booster and Beetle. 

Booster Gold and Blue Beetle _did_ fight crime and supervillains and evil with a capital E, certainly--everyone in the Justice League did--but _in between_ the epic battles and madcap escapes from over-elaborate deathtraps, they were sure to be doing one of two things: getting into trouble . . . or desperately trying to get _out_ of trouble. 

On this particular day they were doing the latter . . . 


	2. Chapter 1: The Better Part of Valor

  


_**Chapter One**_

  
The thing about hiding is that it's not really the constant, overwhelming buildup of tension that spy movies and horror films would have you believe. In fact, hiding tends to be defined by seemingly endless stretches of boredom only occasionally livened up by the odd spike of terror. Booster and Beetle knew this first hand, having had numerous opportunities to perfect the art of going to ground in the various nooks and crannies of the Justice League International's headquarters--usually as the other members of the JLI tore the place apart, searching for them and swearing vengeance. As Blue Beetle said on occasion, it seemed that no one had a sense of humor anymore. At least not a very _durable_ sense of humor. 

Currently, Booster Gold and Blue Beetle had taken refuge in the cool darkness of the official JLI meeting room, which Beetle had claimed would be "the last place anyone would look." So far he had been right. _So_ far. 

"He's going to kill us, you know," Booster said conversationally as he simultaneously plopped his feet on the round table in the center of the room and leaned back in his chair. 

"You're exaggerating," Blue Beetle answered. He was on the floor, lying on his back with his legs casually crossed as he worked on a Rubix cube. 

"I'm _not_ exaggerating." Booster said. "He may not show-off a lot, but he's still a powerhouse. He's got all those fancy things like--" He waved a hand vaguely. "--super-breath and heat vision." 

"Martian vision." 

"What?" 

"It's called Martian vision. Heat vision is Superman." 

"Well, I'll bet it feels the same whether it's called heat vision, Martian vision, or oh-my-God-it-burns-it-burns vision," Booster replied with some spirit. "And you look ridiculous down there, by the way." 

"Mmm." Beetle regarded the Rubix cube. It would have been complete if not for one pesky square of blue on the green side of the cube and vice versa. "Well, he's got X-ray vision too. Best to stay low." 

"You're kidding. _X-ray_ vision? He might as _well_ be Superman." 

"Don't forget about his invisibility thing." Blue Beetle began peeling the blue sticker off the misplaced square on the green side of the Rubix cube. 

"Geez!" Booster leaned back in his chair a little more, arms behind his head. "They hand out powers to everyone these days. Just our luck that we'd get on the bad side of a powerhouse like J'onn instead of someone non-powered like . . . I dunno . . . Batman . . ." 

"You can _still_ get on my bad side," a voice grated as a dark shape dropped from the shadows. 

"GAAAAAH!!!" As the shrouded figure landed on the table in front of him, Booster lost his balance and fell backwards, accompanied by his chair. For his part, Blue Beetle scrambled to his feet, so stunned at the sight of the dark silhouette that he didn't even notice the green, square sticker now stuck to his elbow. 

"Not that Bats doesn't get the job done . . ." Booster managed to say as he pushed himself off the floor. 

"Batman!" Beetle tried for a sincere smile and ended up with something of a sickly grimace. 

The Dark Knight surveyed them over a grim silence before speaking. _"What_ are you two up to _now?"_

"Ah . . . well, it's like this--" Booster Gold managed to one-up Beetle's smile with a half-hearted mouth-twisting grin of his own. "Uh . . . our resident Martian Manhunter is, um, hunting us." 

Batman digested this fact for a few minutes. "You're in trouble with _J'onn_? _How?"_ J'onn J'onnz, aka the Martian Manhunter, was known for his patient forbearance, as well as his green skin and extraterrestrial origins. 

"It was Beetle's fault," Booster said helpfully. 

_"My_ fault? It was _your_ idea!" 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Yeah, well . . . Maybe it was. _Maybe._ But you took to it pretty quickly, Beetle!" 

"What. Did. You. Do?" Batman's voice was full of vague but convincing threats. 

"Ah . . . well . . ." Blue Beetle scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Would you believe . . . we kind of raided J'onn's private supply of oreos?" 

"Oreos." 

"Yeah, but only for scientific research," Booster confirmed. "You know--to find out who could eat the most in under a minute, that sort of thing." 

"Oreos." 

"Uh . . . yeah. I mean, think how useful it would be if we ever come across an alien who--who--" 

Booster looked helplessly at Beetle, who quickly jumped in. "--an alien who, uh, tries to smother us in--" 

_"Oreos." _

"Your needle get stuck, Bats?" Beetle asked innocently, then took a step back as Batman gave him a bonafide LOOK. "Eh heh heh heh . . . just checking" 

"So this is about . . . a bag of cookies." Batman looked at them for confirmation. 

"Well . . . yeah. But I don't think you realize just how seriously J'onn takes those cookies!" 

"God knows we didn't," Beetle said. "Good thing we were out of there before he found out." 

Booster nodded. "Barely, though. We heard everything. I thought the pantry was going to explode. And I would never have guessed there were so many swearwords in Martian. Wish I could remember some of them," he added as an afterthought. 

_"I_ wrote some of them down," Beetle said smugly. "Well . . . phonetically. I don't know how they're really supposed to be spelled . . ." 

"Lots of apostrophes, I'll bet. Doesn't matter if it's French or Martian, foreign languages always have lots of apostrophes." 

"You two--" Batman closed his eyes and raised a gloved hand to his face. He had only come to investigate the two unidentified figures in the darkened room in case they were intruders. And now he felt a headache coming on. Just a typical day in the Justice League. Suppressing a sigh, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. 

Forgetting the lecture he'd been preparing, the bat blinked in surprise. 

He had only shut his eyes for a few seconds and there was nowhere the duo could have hidden in that time, no way they could have moved across the floor of scuffed tile without him being aware of it . . . 

. . . but Blue Beetle and Booster Gold had quite thoroughly disappeared. 

  



	3. Chapter 2: Translocation Woes

_**Chapter Two**_

The golden light of evening streamed through arched windows set in the rosy marble, wrapping itself around row upon row of dust-covered bookshelves. And in the midst of the volumes stood two very confused humans.

"Beetle?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me, or is Batman gone?"

"Well . . ." Blue Beetle turned in a slow circle, surveying books lined around them. "It looks to me like _we're_ gone. I mean . . . well, you know what I mean."

"Hmm . . ." Booster Gold picked a random book from a shelf, looked at the title ("For Want of a Nail: Picking the Horseshoe That's Right for YOU"), and put it back. "So we're the victims of _another_ villainous subplot?"

"Man, I hope no one tries to brainwash us this time. I _hate_ that!" Beetle pulled a small device from his belt and fiddled with it. "Ohhhhh great. Guess whose Justice League signal device isn't working."

Booster checked his own JLI pager. "Ditto. Soooo . . . " He looked around. "See any villains?"

"Just a bunch of books. And a bunch of dust. And some really weird couches or something." Blue Beetle cautiously poked a long, thread-worn lounge.

"Weird place," Booster commented. He examined a tarnished wall sconce for a minute, then helped himself to the low-flickering torch it held. Suddenly he began to smile. "Y'know . . . this could be just the opportunity we needed, Beetle!"

Blue Beetle looked at him. "I'm afraid to ask."

Booster nodded enthusiastically. "Just think of it! If we single-handedly save the day, J'onn might forgive us! And not kill us! Maybe!"

"Booster--"

"Picture it! Blue and Gold saving the world from . . . a giant bookworm or whatever!"

"Booster--"

"There could be a parade in our honor, maybe even statues--"

"Booster--"

"And THEN--" Booster bounced on the balls of his feet gleefully. "--the MARKETING deals!"

"BOOSTER!" Blue Beetle interrupted, gesturing frantically.

Booster shook his head to rid himself of visions of Nike logos and golden arches. "What, Ted? Oops, sorry, secret identity, right. What, Beetle?"

"The window . . ." Blue Beetle pointed. "A pink horse just flew by the window."

"What?" Booster Gold blinked in surprise, turning to take a look. Only an array of sunset-stained clouds was visible through the glass. "There's nothing there. Beetle, you shouldn't joke at a time like this."

"Said the pot to the kettle! Anyway, who's joking? I'm telling you, it was a pink horse!"

_"Flying._ By the window." Booster crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a batarang in my eye!"

Booster looked doubtful as he ran his fingers through his yellow hair. "Ted . . . don't take this the wrong way, but when's the last time you took a vacation?"

"Oh right, I'M the crazy one. Come on, Booster . . . we get pushed around by a guy who dressed like a giant _bat._ We raided a _Martian's_ oreo supply. And you think mere flying horses push the bounds of reality?"

"Flying horses I can accept. Heck, if it was good enough for the Romans--"

"The _Greeks."_

"--then it's good enough for me. But flying _pink_ horses?" Booster made a sweeping gesture of incredulity.

It was too bad he was still holding the torch.

_For Want of a Nail_ was the first book to catch, with the flames quickly leaping to devour _My Life among the Bushwoolies_, _Breezies: Fact or Fiction?_, and the ironically named _Light in the Darkness._

"Ohmigod! BOOSTER!"

"Uh . . . oops?"

The entire bookcase was blazing now. Both humans backed away as the flames leapt and the adjacent shelves began to flare, effectively cutting them off from the obvious escape route, the window.

"Ted?"

"Yeah?" Blue Beetle did an acrobatic backflip to avoid being roasted in a gout of flame. Everything around them, rows and rows of dust-dry books, was blazing.

"We may be in trouble."

"No kidding, Einstein." Beetle rolled his eyes, a gesture lost under his goggles and the overwhelming clouds of smoke. "How about you use that fancy-schmancy 24th century suit to whip up a force field or something, huh?"

Booster took several steps back as the carpet in front of him caught fire. "Well, that's the problem. My force field seems to be . . ." Booster jabbed at a button on the left sleeve of his suit, " . . . um, out of commission."

"Oh." Beetle considered. "Do we have a back-up plan?"

"Other than dying a fiery death?"

"Well, yeah, I was hoping to avoid the whole death thing, fiery or otherwise."

"Not really."

"Oh great. We really _are_ in trouble then."

"You'd better _believe_ you're in trouble, you miscreants!"

"Who--?"

"What--?"

The superheroes swung around, gaping across the flames at a white stallion decorated (appropriately) with yellow and orange licks of fire and a blue mare with a crescent moon on her flanks.

The yellow-maned stallion glared at them, the smoke and heat distorting his stern gaze. "You're both under arrest!"


	4. Chapter 3: Miscalculations

  


_**Chapter Three**_

  


* * *

Booster Gold and Blue Beetle were still silently goggling at the stallion when the blue mare spoke up, "Flare . . . let's worry about the fire first, okay?" She began stamping out the flames licking the carpet around her. 

"Talking . . . pony . . ." Booster muttered. "But they _don't_ have wings," he added defiantly, glancing at Beetle. 

"We're either going to be thrown in jail--by _pastel horses,_ no less--or burnt to a crisp and all you can think about is--THLLBPT!!!!" A pressurized blast of water shattered the window and caught the blue-costumed hero full in the face. 

Booster couldn't quite repress a smile, but his voice was sympathetic as he helped Beetle up. "Oh man, that's gotta--GGLSTPPT!" 

"You were saying?" Blue Beetle said as a new stream of water slammed Booster against a guttering bookcase. Booster made an indeterminate gurgling sound before grabbing a shelf to pull himself to his feet. The blackened bookcase lurched beneath his weight. 

Beetle's eyes widened beneath his goggles. "Booster, don't! The whole thing's going to--" The charred bookcase gave a sudden shudder, then collapsed, burying Booster in a pile of warped wood (as well as knocking down several other bookshelves as the mass of timbers fell forward.) Blue Beetle winced. 

"Oh man." Beetle surveyed the splintered timbers piled on the floor, sometimes leaning in precarious tripods. He began pushing through the remains of the furniture and the few blackened, curled pages that hadn't been _completely_ consumed by the fire. 

Something shifted under the rubble . . . then several shattered shelves were pushed aside to reveal Booster, his yellow hair now turned black with ash. He wiped a yellow-gloved hand across his visor, rubbing away enough soot enough to enable him to see. 

"Force field's still not working, huh?" Beetle asked. 

"Not. Another. Word." Booster gritted. 

Beetle moved aside to avoid another soaking; now that the smoke was clearing, he could see that the water was coming from several flying horses hovering outside the window with a large hose. "Well, at least the fire's under control." 

The bookshelves, books, and carpet had flared up instantaneously but burnt themselves to bits quickly, leaving the flames struggling against the marble floor and walls. Between the hose and the white and blue horses stamping out fires in the room, the fire had been dealt with quite effectively. 

The flame-decorated horse suddenly looked up at the recalcitrant heroes. "Now for you two--" Wraiths of smoke wrapped around the stallion's snowy coat as he approached, his face stern and solemn. "In the name of Queen Majesty, you're both under arrest!" 

Booster paused in his futile attempts to brush off his blue and yellow suit. "Look--no offense, horsie--" 

The stallion's expression darkened. _"Pony."_

"Whatever. I don't know _where_ we are or _who_ you are or _how_ we ended up in a place with talking--" 

"And flying." 

"(Okay, yes, you win, Beetle.) --and _flying_ hors--uhhhh, ponies . . . but I _do_ know that my plans for the evening don't include playing robber to your cop!" Booster Gold crossed his arms defiantly as he finished. 

The stallion's eyes narrowed. "Robber? You mean you've been stealing as well?" 

"As well as _what?"_ Beetle demanded. 

"Arson." This time it was the blue pony who spoke. "You were holding that torch when we came in, I believe?" 

"Uh . . . well . . ." 

"Hey, that doesn't prove anything," Beetle admonished. "If you ask me, your friend there is the suspicious one. I mean, _he's_ got flames tattooed all over his body. Obsessive, anyone? Hellooo!" 

"I seriously doubt that Flare was responsible for this," the blue pony said, giving them a level look as her companion sputtered indignantly. "Now, if you'll just come along quietly--" 

"COVER YOUR EYES, BOOSTER!" Blue Beetle suddenly yelled, whipping a silver-plated "gun" out of the holster on his right hip. 

"He's got a weapon!! SCRAMBLE!!" Flare shouted as both ponies dove for cover. 

Click. Click. Click. 

The ponies cautiously peered out from behind the wreckage. 

"Ah . . . Beetle . . ." Booster opened one eye and peeked out between his fingers. "I can't help but notice that even though you're pulling the trigger, _nothing's happening. And_ you're swearing." 

"My solar gun . . . I don't understand, I recharged it just last night . . ." Blue Beetle muttered, whacking the gun a few times, despite the fact that that technique never worked outside of movies. 

"A ruse," Flare growled, rising to his full height. "They aren't going to cooperate, Blue Moon. Force is the only language these kind of scoundrels understand." 

"Now, now, let's not be too hasty," Booster said with a nervous smile as he and Beetle began backing towards the window. 

The ponies ignored him. "I'll take the one on the left." Blue Moon gracefully leapt over the debris as she and Flare began galloping towards the costumed humans. 

"Okay, time for Plan B," Booster said decisively as he kicked the last pieces of glass out of the already shattered window. "C'mon, Beetle!" 

"Oh my God . . . please tell me you're kidding!" Beetle's head swiveled between Booster's perch in the window and the several hundred pounds of horseflesh bearing down on him. 

"It's only seventeen stories down and HEY! Guess who has a flight ring!" Booster grinned, flashing the gold ring on his right hand as he grabbed Beetle's arm. 

"But Booster--" Blue Beetle protested as the other hero leapt out the window, pulling him in his wake. 

"Stop in the name of the law--!" Flare demanded, peering after them. 

"Now we're free as a--we aren't flying!! Why aren't we flying??" Booster gasped as the world rushed past. 

"BOOSTER! Think about it! None of our gear's worked since we got here!" Beetle shrieked. 

"WHAT?? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO BEFORE??" 

"I DID!! YOU WEREN'T LISTENING, YOU PIG-HEADED--ohmigod. Tree." 

"What d'y'mean tr--EEEEEAAAAAAARGH!!!" 

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Beetle added as the two humans broke through the canopy and began bouncing off the thick-limbed branches. _Hard._ They actually managed to pull some branches off as they rocked through them, tangling themselves further in a flurry of bark and leaves before reaching their final destination: the ground. 

"Ohhhhhhhhh . . ." Booster groaned as he put a hand to his head. "Like a dozen hangovers all at once . . . Hey, Beetle? Ted? You okay?" 

"I'm not talking to you," Blue Beetle said, his voice somewhat muffled due to the fact that he was lying face down in the grass. 

Booster grabbed his shoulder and shook. "Seriously, are you okay? We've gotta get out of here before . . ." He suddenly noticed the crowd of colorful ponies who had drawn around them, staring at them with unbridled curiosity. "Uh, never mind, I think it's too late." 

The crowd stirred, then parted to reveal Flare and Blue Moon approaching with purposeful strides. 

"Now I _know_ it's too late," Booster muttered, still on his hands and knees as he found himself under the scrutiny of the both ponies. 

Flare's eye twitched as he stared down. "You," he said, "are in big trouble." 

  



	5. Chapter 4: A Cool, Seamless Lake

_**Chapter Four**_

Majesty, queen of Dream Valley, nudged open one of the decorative stained glass windows gracing her living quarters and surveyed the verdant valley below. A gentle breeze tangled strands of blue hair around the unicorn's white horn as Majesty gazed down at the ponies lounging under the trees and the foals splashing in the pond. The setting sun highlighted the deep rose marble of the castle turrets with an orangish tint.

All in all, it looked like it was going to be another gloriously perfect day in Ponyland.

The kind of day that made Majesty nervous.

_Don't think that way, _she told herself firmly. _Just count your blessings. _

Out of habit she began her morning meditation: "My soul is a cool, seamless lake. I am one with the still, clear water . . ."

It was strange not having ponies shrieking her name and beating down her door in demands for assistance, but lately everything had been surprisingly calm.

"I am a quiet, sunlit forest. I am one with the hanging wisps of cloud . . . "

Even the rowdiest of ponies hadn't caused any trouble in several weeks--well, not including the morning Flare had found a dozen bushwoolies packed in file cabinets. Still, in the big scheme of things, that wasn't bad.

"I am the majestic mountain, tall, silent, and strong. I am the land and the land is me," Majesty finished, exhaling deeply.

Maybe she was being too cynical. Maybe this turn of events really did herald in a new era for Dream Valley, an era that left behind the frantic hubbub and insanity that had grown all too commonplace. Maybe she should just relax and stop waiting, as they say, for the last horseshoe to drop.

Majesty smiled as she closed her eyes against the sunlight. No need to question the sudden, startling sanity. Just breathe it in. Accept it. "My soul is a cool . . ."

"FIRE!" someone screamed in the hallway.

Majesty opened one eye, then squeezed it shut again. No doubt a small fire in someone's wastepaper basket. No need for alarm. Let someone else handle it. ". . . seamless lake . . . "

"Great Rainbow of Light! THE LIBRARY!"

"What's happening? What's happening?"

"Someone find the Guardians!"

Majesty kept her eyes shut. The library. Okay, that was bad. But still, a fire in a castle made of stone wasn't exactly life threatening. Just stay calm. "I am one with the clear, still water," she reminded herself.

"Everyone clear the passageways, please," Flare's voice came over the frantic clattering of hooves. "To one side, please!"

"Please either return to your quarters or gather outside to help with the water situation," Blue Moon added. "They're setting up pumps. They'll need pegasi to get the hoses near the windows."

"I am a quiet, sunlit forest." There. The Guardians were handling it just fine. In a few minutes, all the hubbub would be . . .

"Hey, there's someone in there! And not ponies!"

"ARSON!" came Flare's angry bellow.

"I am a quiet, sunlit forest. I am one with the hanging wisps of cloud--"

The shouts crescendoed over an increasing thunder of hooves. Garbled shrieks punctuated the general confusion, and the words most repeated were "human" and "window."

"I am the majestic mountain, tall, silent, and strong." Majesty wondered if majestic mountains ever got pounding headaches. Maybe they took painkillers.

"Quick, downstairs!" Flare shouted as hoofsteps echoed and faded along the corridor. Apparently everyone was stampeding down after Flare and Blue Moon.

"I am the land and the land is me," Majesty finished, opening her eyes and gazing down at the mob of ponies now gathering at the front of the castle. Well, of course . . . THAT was the problem. The land. It wasn't her, or even her subjects, it was the land. It was insane, obviously, and any slight tendency towards normalcy was sure to drift back into general madness. What the land really needed was a big, big straitjacket. Majesty realized she was giggling under her breath. She stopped.

"My soul is a cool, seamless lake," she began again . . . just as a swelling chorus of excited voices filled the corridors once more.

"The queen! Take them to the queen!"

"Now, hold on here!"

"Please, everyone . . . Official Guardians business . . . back off, please . . ."

"Let Majesty judge them!"

Majesty squeezed her eyes shut. "My soul is a cool, seamless lake," she repeated, trying to ignore the ever-growing waves now rippling on the surface of the metaphorical body of water. Outside, the tumult only increased in volume and confusion.

"This is all just a big misunderstanding! Beetle, tell them this is all--"

"I'm STILL not talking to you."

Unfamiliar voices. Strangers. They sounded human. Oh Light. Oh Rainbow of Light. Who had Firefly dragged across the Rainbow this time, and could they possibly be any worse than Molly and Danny? Majesty let out a sort of sobbing laugh. "My soul is a seamless . . . it's a seamless . . ."

They were just outside the door now, with someone battering at it with a hoof. "Queen Majesty? Agents Flare and Blue Moon here. We've got a couple of--GET BACK HERE, YOU!"

"Ow! No need to--ow!--was just trying to get a little breathing room, you donkey!"

"Way to get them on our side, Booster."

"I thought you weren't _talking_ to me, Beetle."

"I'm NOT!"

"Lake," Majesty mumbled with her head buried in her hooves. "Calm . . ."

"PLEASE, everyone, don't crowd! Just return to your quarters and--Heart Throb, you're in my personal space!"

"Oh dear, I AM sorry, Flare . . . giggle"

"PLEASE STEP AWAY!"

"--never seen a human this close before."

"These ones are taller than Megan--"

_"I _say we just string 'em up!"

"--want to know why they're both wearing goggles, myself . . ."

"Oh no! What if they've dumped dangerous pollutants in the air and we're all gonna--"

"Shut up, Shady."

"Everyone, I must repeat, please stand back. These are dangerous criminals we're dealing with here, and--"

"Oh, for heaven's sake . . . I'm going to knock again and--hey, stop it! Blade!"

"Lake," Majesty whispered to herself.

"Sorry, BM, but everyone's pushing and . . . OOF!"

"ARRGH! You're CRUSHING ME!"

"YOWWWW! MY TAIL!"

"Sorry, my bad! I was just--"

"Don't back into m--OOF!"

There were several solid thumps against the door, as if ponies were falling against it, just before the latch gave in and Agents Flare and Blue Moon, two unidentified humans, and four or five random ponies spilled into Majesty's quarters in an untidy heap. Flare struggled to free himself from the writhing, wailing tangle of limbs and tails.

"Majesty!" the white stallion said, looking fairly official considering his back legs were still caught between Blue Moon and Heart Throb. "We--"

"I'M A LAKE!" Majesty shrieked. "A COOL, SEAMLESS LAKE!"

Tangled though everyone was, everyone managed to scramble back into the hallway, perhaps inspired by the mad glint in Majesty's eyes. The minute they cleared the threshold, she flung her shoulder against the door, slamming it shut. She took several deep breaths as she leaned against the portal; on the other side of the door dead silence reigned.

After a few moments, Majesty pulled herself up, shook her mane into place, and forced a smile before nudging open the door. Flare and Blue Moon were standing with their prisoners, two humans who were visibly leaning away from Majesty. The other ponies in the hallway stood a good distance from them, perhaps to satisfy Flare's demands for space, but more likely to avoid any more rantings about lakes. Majesty kept smiling. Anything that gave her breathing room was a good thing. Maybe she should scream about lakes and mountains on a more regular basis. Maybe if she just screamed her whole mantra at the top of her lungs every morning.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid you startled me just now," she said sweetly. "I see you've found two, um, humans . . ." She looked at them closely for the first time. Such strange creatures. How had the one in yellow and blue collected so many _leaves_ in his hair? "And they're under suspicion for some sort of crime?"

"Arson," Blue Moon said with a nod.

"Now, look, this is just a misunderstanding--" began the human with the horticultural hair.

"Then I'm sure it will be cleared up quickly," Majesty smiled. "Flare, Blue Moon please set up court in the throne room. I'll be down shortly."

"Court . . . ?"

"Well, you can't say that they don't have due process," was the last comment Majesty heard, mumbled by the human in blue just as the unicorn stepped back into her chamber and pulled the door closed.

"I AM a cool, seamless lake," Majesty told herself. "Things ARE going to stay sane. This time is going to be different."

She said it with such conviction that she almost believed it.

Almost.


	6. Chapter 5: The Lay of the Ponyland

_**Chapter Five**_

* * *

With blue and silver standards dripping from the walls and black marble delicately inlaid in the arching cathedral ceiling, the massive throne room had clearly been built to impress. 

Today it was succeeding.

Blue Beetle and Booster Gold sat on the cold white floor in one corner of the huge room, leaning against the wall. Beetle had his legs pulled up to his chest, resting his blue-clad arms across his knees as he watched colorful ponies "setting up for the trial", which seemed to involve dragging tables in and tossing large pillows onto the floor. Booster, on the other hand, shifted irritably and eyed their ever-vigilant guards, Flare and Blue Moon, while muttering about indignities and lawsuits. Neither of the Guardians looked particularly worried by his half-heard threats of affidavits and subpoenas, though Flare's look of stony disapproval increased with every second.

"Stop that," Beetle said under his breath without moving. "You're going to make him kick us or bite or something."

"Stop what?" Booster twitched again and Flare's expression darkened further.

_"That!" _

"I don't know what you're talking about--" A shadow fell over Booster, and he looked up to find Flare looming over him. "Can I help you?" Booster asked sarcastically, crossing his arms.

"Get over there. Move." Flare nodded towards the long wooden table directly in front of the towering white dais.

"Well, since you asked so politely . . ." Booster Gold rolled his eyes as he stood up.

"You too." Flare added an equal glower for Blue Beetle.

Blue Beetle rose to his feet with a heavy sigh, locking his fingers together and stretching to get the kinks out. "Just tell me there won't be any brainwashing involved."

Flare's only answer was a look dripping with suspicion and Blue Moon simply raised her eyebrows.

"Don't give them ideas," Booster admonished as he began towards the table, picking his way around the colorful cushions now lining most of the floor.

"It was just a thought."

"So we're supposed to sit on _these_ things?" Booster poked something that vaguely resembled half of an upholstered love-seat, except with slightly odd contours and one missing arm. Five of the pony-sized "chairs" were set behind the table.

"I guess," Beetle replied. "Dibs on the blue one."

"You are so predictable."

"Hey, I've got a color scheme to maintain!" Beetle plopped down in the seat in question. "Can I help it if I look so good in blue?"

_"I_ look good in _anything," _Booster replied rather smugly, taking the red chair to the left of Beetle's.

"Vanity, thy name is Booster."

"Says you! Check the Nielsen Ratings, bugman. Nine out of ten female viewers between the ages of eighteen and forty-nine agree--" Movement to the side distracted him and he glanced over to find Flare settling into the chair on his left. "Not you again! I mean . . . um . . . " Booster leaned away from a glare that would have done Batman proud. Blue Moon just sighed and shook her head as she claimed the chair beside Flare.

"It would not be in your best interest to continue aggravating these fine officers of the law, considering you're in such a troublesome predicament due to your alleged illicit activities."

In unison, Beetle and Booster slowly turned to the right and discovered a blue pegasus with pink hair now seated in the remaining chair beside Beetle.

"Um . . ." Booster and Beetle exchanged looks. "And you would be . . . ?"

"I am known as Wind Whistler," the pegasus introduced herself. "Today I'll serve as your public defender."

"So you're our lawyer," Beetle said.

"In a sense, yes. Although it would be more accurate to say--"

"Lawyer" was good enough for Booster. "So what happens next?" he wanted to know. "I mean, don't we go somewhere and, like, discuss our strategy or something? In private?" he added with a dark look at Flare and Blue Moon.

"Actually, laws of this particular fief of Serendipity specify that--"

"Serendipity?"

"Ah, yes. Formerly called Equinna, and before that Faeren, it was recently renamed by the High Queen during the Talarmac Convention when the Royalty convened in Crystal Castle and discussed--"

"Hmm, Serendipity . . . I haven't heard of that one. Booster?"

"Are you kidding me? The last time I had a geography lesson was in 2458. Everything was--will be--different than they are back then. Er, back now. Well . . . you know what I mean." Being from the future made conjugating sentences difficult.

"Ponyland."

The humans swiveled to look at Blue Moon.

"You're in Ponyland," she repeated.

"Well . . . that's the _vernacular_ for the land, of course . . ." Wind Whistler sniffed.

"Seems pretty straightforward to me. Pony. Land. Tells you everything you need to know. Like the fact that we're totally _dead." _

"Booster, it's not _that_ bad."

"Beetle, even if we don't get strung up by this kookaburra court--"

_"Kangaroo_ court, future boy."

"--we've _got_ to be on a different planet. I mean, _Pony-Land?_ I'm pretty sure we'd have noticed if Bialya or Brazil or . . . or _Canada_ got taken over by pink horses--sorry, excuse me, _ponies._ And since neither of us is exactly equipped for space flight even when our gear _isn't_ malfunctioning--"

"We're the Justice League, Booster. Doing the impossible is our _day job._ We'll get out of this somehow."

"Such confidence," Flare said in a frosty tone. "How inspiring."

"No one asked you," Blue Beetle said. "So . . . Wind Whistler. You were saying--?"

"I was saying that as non-citizens of Serendipity, you do not actually have the right to meet with your counsel in private. In fact," she added as an afterthought, "you really don't have any rights at all. I wouldn't dwell on it too much, however. My position in this matter is mostly ceremonial in any case. There's little I'll actually _do."_

"Oh, terrific. You're right, Ted, things are certainly looking up NOW."

"The name's _Beetle_ when I'm in costume, thank-you-very-much. And shut up."

"No need for undue concern, gentlemen," Wind Whistler said. "Although _technically _you are subject to the basest whims of the Crown, we are far too civilized to condemn anyone on mere suspicions. We too believe in justice."

"Well, that's good . . ."

"Of course, a good part of justice involves crime and punishment," Wind Whistler mused.

"Not so good. So let me ask you this: if we can't go over the situation in private with you, what exactly are you supposed to do? I mean, if we can't prepare . . ."

"Just present your side of the story in a concise, truthful manner and let me worry about the machinations of your defense. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear," Wind Whistler assured them.

_"If,"_ Flare snorted.

"And, ah, if--_theoretically_--we were found guilty, what would happen to us?" Booster ventured.

Wind Whistler cocked her head to one side. "As the queen of Dream Valley, Queen Majesty would have the privilege of deciding the severity of your punishment."

"Uh huh," Beetle said. "When you say 'severity', how severe are we talking? Theoretically."

"Well . . ." Wind Whistler blinked. "The punishment could be anything Majesty chooses, really. Monetary compensation. Community service. Incarceration. Execution."

"Well." Booster Gold said after several minutes of stunned silence. "Long live democracy."


	7. Chapter 6: The Return of the Queen

  


_**Chapter Six**_

  
"So let me get this straight," Blue Beetle leaned back in his chair and ticking the points off on his fingers. "We have no rights. We have no privacy. And our freedom--not to mention our _lives_--lie in the hands (or hooves--whatever) of someone who regularly screams about being--what was it again, Booster?" 

"Um, a lake." 

"Right. A lake. Tell me, Wind Whistler . . . Do you ever get the niggling feeling that this judicial system might have some itsy-bitsy _flaws?"_

"How _dare_ you say such things about our Queen!" Flare broke in indignantly. 

"You know, Flare--he has a point!" a new voice commented. Booster let out a yelp of surprise as a yellow pony suddenly dropped in front of him, upside down. A veritable rainbow of hair hung down as the yellow pegasus hovered, grinning, without bothering to right himself. 

_"Skydancer,"_ Flare growled. "I might have known you'd be involved in this malicious mischief." 

"No, no, no, Flare! I've _reformed,_ remember. For a while at least," Skydancer said easily, righting himself with a flourish of wings and landing on the table. "I figured I owed Parasol that much after that . . . courtship thing." 

"And the fact that she was angry enough to break your wings if you tried another prank had _nothing_ to do with it," Blue Moon said, looking slightly amused. 

"Nothing at all, BM." He winked. "Anyway, I would never burn down a library." He gave the two humans a reproachful look. 

"Neither would _we!"_ Booster said plaintively. "I mean, not on purp--" 

"Booster, ix-nay on the alking-tay!" Beetle muttered, giving him a kick under the table. 

_"What_ were you saying?" Flare demanded. 

"I was saying . . . uh . . . You can bet your porpoise we wouldn't burn anything down! It's, um, a _common phrase_ back in the 25th century where . . . I . . . come . . . from . . ." Booster looked around to find Beetle slumped forward covering his face with his hands and Flare staring at him with an altogether unbelieving look. 

"I can bet. my. porpoise." Flare said. 

"Well, yeah, it means . .. uh . . . Oh please, like your 21st century phrases make _any more sense!"_ Booster Gold changed the subject. "Like the one about looking for gifts in horses' mouths--what's THAT all about?" 

"Um. As your defense attorney, I would suggest that perhaps you indulge in less verbal sparring," Wind Whistler ventured. 

"Oh, no no no!" Skydancer was visibly trying to hold back laughter. "What a waste that would be!" 

"I also advise you not to listen to Skydancer," Wind Whistler said, rolling her eyes. 

"Please clear out, Skydancer. The _table_ is really not an appropriate place for you to attend this trial," were Flare's words, but his tone clearly said, "Get out of here, troublemaker." 

"You're probably right," Skydancer agreed, turning around as if he meant to hop off the table. Suddenly looked over his shoulder and tensed, eyes widening. "FLARE, LOOK!!! JAYWALKERS!!!" 

"WHERE??" the white stallion demanded, leaping up. The moment the Guardian was on his hooves, Skydancer simply fell backwards into Flare's chair. 

"Why, you were right, Flare! This is _much_ better than perching on the table!" the yellow pony grinned. Flare turned to look at the pegasus now sprawled in his chair, staring at him for a good minute before leaving in dignity in search of another seat. 

"You do like living dangerously, don't you, Sky?" Blue Moon sighed. 

"What other way is there?" the pegasus asked, watching Flare return to the table with a chair sporting a rather horrible floral pattern. He pushed it into place at the far end of the table, next to Blue Moon, and gave Skydancer the evil eye as he sat back down. 

"You have jaywalkers here?" Beetle asked. 

"Mmmm . . . no, not really," Skydancer grinned. 

"I cannot _believe_ he let you get away with that," Booster said. 

"I'm just more trouble than I'm worth. Anyway, I'm sure Flare knows I would've gotten a good seat one way or another. This way I didn't have to push." 

Skydancer waved a wing to indicate the ever-increasing mob of ponies crowding their way into the throne room, most of them stretching their necks to get a good look at the humans before choosing their spots on the large cushions lining the floor (although some pegasi were roosting in the cubbyholes provided by the intricate marble supports.) 

"Oh sure . . . everyone loves a good hanging," Booster grumbled. 

"Booster, I'm _sure_ they won't hang us--" 

"Oh boy, listen to the expert!" 

"--because I don't see how they could possibly tie the knots for it," Blue Beetle finished. 

"Oh." Booster considered. "Everyone loves a good trampling?" he suggested. 

"Messy. Drowning, maybe? If they tied rocks around our feet and--no, that would require knots again." 

"Ohhhh, I've got it. Poison--like that Greek guy." 

"Socrates." 

"Yeah, him." 

"Mmm. Maybe." 

Skydancer, who had been following the verbal exchange with great interest, suddenly asked, "Are you always like this?" 

"Like what?" Blue Beetle asked at the same time that Booster Gold said, "Usually I look even _better."_

"Like _what?"_ Beetle repeated a little louder, rolling his eyes to show that he'd heard Booster's remark. "Is there a problem? Besides the obvious accused-of-arson-put-on-trial thing, I mean?" 

"Oh no, not at all. You both seem very, ah, interesting. Watching you is just . . ." The pegasus leaned back in his chair, lounging with a thoughtful smile on his face. "It's a little out of body, that's all." he grinned. 

"Your comment makes little sense, Skydancer. Clearly you are currently inhabiting your body, or else you would be unable to--" 

"You know what, Wind Whistler? Never mind." 

"Doesn't get idioms, huh? I know someone with the same problem." Blue Beetle looked pointedly at Booster. 

"Well, excuse me for having culture shock!"

"Puh-lease. No one who watches Brady Bunch reruns five days a week has any legitimate excuse for--" 

"Oh, like it's not partly _your_ fault!" 

"What? Me?" 

"WHO lent me that stack of videos without telling me they were set in the _1920s?_ It was two weeks before the Martian Manhunter told me that no one says 'twenty-three skiddoo' anymore!" 

"Oh . . . _that."_ Beetle grinned widely, then tried to cover it up with a cough. "Well . . . uh . . . you _said_ you wanted girls to find you funny, Booster . . ." 

"FUNNY, Beetle, not LAUGHABLE!" 

"Semantics, semantics . . . " 

"If I might interrupt this _fascinating_ exchange--" 

"Oooh, does Wind Whistler dabble in _sarcasm_ now? GASP!" Skydancer grinned.

"--I believe court is about to be called into session." The blue pegasus nodded towards the huge oak doors that rose at the very end of the dais.

As they watched the doors creaked open a bit and a small purple dragon, perhaps three feet high, scuttled out with a long-flared trumpet clasped in his arms, held tightly to his chest. He held it up, balancing it with some difficulty, took a huge breath, and blew through the mouthpiece. Beetle and Booster winced, as the result was a sound that a dying duck might have made. Undeterred, the little dragon took an even _deeper_ breath, his cheeks puffing out as he blew with all his might. The entire crowd gave a collective shudder as the screeches of more tortured waterfowl echoed against the marble. 

Nevertheless, the trumpeter had served his purpose; a breathless silence blanketed the room by the time the huge double-doors swung open, pushed open by two ponies marching in perfect step. One was yellow with red hair, one purple with aqua, but both had lush capes decorated in blue and white diamonds draped over their backs with tassles swishing at their sides as they moved. 

"Diamond Dreams and Glisten," Skydancer identified them softly, not loud enough to disturb the hush. "Honor guard." 

The formally decorated ponies pushed the doors open fully and drew themselves to attention at either side of the doorway with a sharp _clack_ of their heels and heads held high. And striding into the room with even paces came a white unicorn with flowing blue hair, all draped in scarlet. A small blue unicorn with white hair trailed after her, carrying her train. When Majesty stopped, she set it down carefully and then moved unobtrusively to the side.

"All hail Majesty, queen of Dream Valley!" the dragon announced. What should have been an awe-inspiring, powerful moment was rendered completely ineffective due to the little reptile's tinny, nasal voice. The crowd relaxed, no longer seeing an uber-powerful protector, but merely the somewhat overstressed unicorn who yammered on about lakes and took pills twice a day. Booster and Beetle did _not_ relax, as they saw the somewhat overstressed unicorn who yammered on about lakes AND had absolute power to do whatever she felt like to them. 

Indeed, it was because Booster Gold and Blue Beetle were exchanging dark looks over Majesty's entrance that they missed the cue to rise. The first they knew of it was the clatter of hundreds of hooves as the crowd surged to its hooves behind them, even as Flare, Blue Moon, Wind Whistler, and even Skydancer scraped their chairs back and rose. The humans hastily followed suit, spurred on by a frown from Flare. 

Majesty tilted her head in acknowledgement as she settled onto her throne, looking down at her subjects who, en masse, sat down again. Booster started to sit as well, only to have Blue Beetle grab his collar and pull him back up. 

"Hey, what are you--?" 

"Everyone at the table is still standing," Beetle hissed. "And Flare is giving you that look again." 

"Flare's been giving me that look since he tried to trample me in the library," Booster whispered back. "And _Skydancer's_ sitting down . . ." 

"He's not even supposed to be up here, remember? And Wind Whistler said not to listen to him--" 

"You're doing a marvelous job of not listening so far," muttered Wind Whistler, who had been trying--unsuccessfully--to get their attention. She punctuated her remark with an exasperated sigh. "You two seem quite deteremined to dig your own grave, but I'll help you as much as you can. Go and stand in front of the court. This is in Majesty's hooves now, but if questions of legal contention come up, I will jump in to defend. For now, follow the Guardians." She nodded to Flare and Blue Moon. "And remember--answer any and all queries in a concise and truthful--"

"Yeah, yeah, we know the drill . . ." Booster Gold and Blue Beetle trailed after the ponies as they moved around the table to stand directly in front of Majesty. 

"Majesty!" Flare sunk down on one knee with his other foreleg extended, obviously in some kind of equine bow. Before Booster and Beetle could decide whether to imitate his example, he rose and continued, "Blue Moon and I have in custody two creatures--humans--for the crime of _arson."_

The crowd gasped dramatically--purely for effect, since every pony had of course heard about the event five minutes after it happened. Or less. 

"These two intruders have delibrarately burnt down the library--"

The crowd gasped even more deeply and with even less surprise (although with just as much enjoyment.) 

"Objection!" Wind Whistler said. "It has yet to be _proved_ that they burned it down, and it certainly has not been proved that any such act was _intentional_--" 

"That's what we're here to decide," Majesty said. "So let this trial begin. I will judge and pass sentence as I see fit." 

A faint rustle ran around the temporary court room as the ponies settled into their places. The two humans looked around to find themselves in front of their judge, flanked by guards, and while behind them a crowd of ponies leaned towards their trial in anticipation. 

Booster whispered, "Beetle?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Shouldn't she have said she'd pass sentence _if_ she found us guilty?" 

"You know what, Booster?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We are in _serious_ trouble." 

  



	8. Chapter 7: Working the System

  


_**Chapter Seven**_

  
Majesty gazed at the two humans standing before her and suppressed a sigh. They just HAD to burn down the library, didn't they? She snorted slightly, then began speaking, her regal voice filling the throne room. "Do you know who I am?" 

"Um, I think a couple of these hors--PONIES--mentioned you were the queen of, um, Ponyland," the human in blue ventured. "Which would fit in pretty well with the cape and tiara you're wearing . . ."

"I'm the queen of _Dream Valley_," Majesty corrected. "The High Queen, currently Tiffany, rules all of Ponyland."

"Uh . . . okay." He shrugged.

Majesty closed her eyes for a minute. Everything was going wrong _already_. Instead of awing them into admitting everything, the conversation had veered off on a tangent of political minutia. She plugged on. "So . . . you're not from around here." 

"Erm . . . nooooo . . ." the blue-clad human said, and the other one added, "Not last time we checked." 

The crowd of ponies shifted and a few giggles were heard as Majesty kept her face calm. 'You're not from around here.' Yeah, really awe-inspiring. Brilliant stuff. Oh well . . . "I must ask you to tell the truth, whole and complete, for your own sakes." Should have said that earlier. Argh. "So . . . who are you and where do you come from?"

Apparently that was just the cue the blond human in yellow and blue had been waiting for. "I'm _Booster Gold!_" he announced with a flourish. "The Corporate Crusader! The Capitalist Combatant! The Wall Street Warrior! The--"

"Booster Gold. Wonderful." Majesty recovered from her shock and cut him off quickly. 

Booster looked somewhat crestfallen as he adjusted his upturned collar. "There was more," he muttered. 

Majesty did her best to ignore him, as well as the headache she felt coming. And she'd wanted to _awe_ them. Ha. "What about you?" she asked the human in two-toned blue, who was currently rolling his eyes at Booster through his bulgy yellow goggles.

"Blue Beetle," he said. "The Azure Avenger!" he added, although with less production than Booster.

"Blue Beetle," Majesty repeated. Come to think of it, the dark blue markings over his ribs _did_ vaguely resemble an insect's legs. And there were little black antennae drawn on his headpiece, over his eyes . . .

"Excuse me." Majesty was surprised to see Flare standing up--the last pony she'd expect to find breaking protocol. "I apologize for the interruption," he dipped his head respectfully, but I have to ask this human . . . you say you're Blue Beetle? I was wondering if anyone ever called you, oh, maybe . . . TED."

"Only when they FORGET themselves." For some reason the self-proclaimed Blue Beetle shot a glare at Booster Gold, who shrugged sheepishly. "Look, it's like this . . . oh God, how can I explain this?" The human raised his hand as if to run his fingers through his hair, then stopped when he realized he was still masked. "Um . . . Ted is what my parents called me, but Blue Beetle is, like . . . what I am."

"Oh." Majesty cocked her head. "So Ted is your birthname and Blue Beetle is the name you chose for yourself." Well, that made sense. Foals always took the name of their mother or father (depending on gender) until they were old enough to choose their own moniker. Interesting to find that humans--at least some--had the same system. The only odd part was that Blue Beetle still let anyone call him by his birthname. Majesty knew that _she_ would never let anyone call her "Princess Baby Snookum-Cakes" again, after all . . . 

Nevertheless, she felt slightly relieved--both to discover an unexpected connection to humanity AND to find a human with a halfway normal name. All the humans she'd met previously had names made of nonsense syllables like "Molly" or "Danny". What in all the names of the Rainbow was a "danny" supposed to be? Even "Booster Gold" made more sense than that. At least half of his name was a _color_ . . .

"And _where_ did you say you were from?" Majesty asked while in the background Flare muttered something that sounded dissatisfied and sat back down. 

"Earth? Have you heard of Earth?" Booster asked hopefully.

"Well, of course. The land across the rainbow," Majesty replied. "Who brought you across into Ponyland?" Drat, should've used the official name. What was it again? If only the Royalty wouldn't change it every three months . . . 

"Rainbow? Uh, no . . . we were just standing there in the Justice League conference room, minding our own business, and then we were . . . here," Beetle said with a wave of his hand.

"Justice League?" Majesty's ears perked up.

Booster jumped in. "Yeah, we're a group of humans--well, not _all_ humans, because J'onn's our leader and he's actually a _Martian_, and Guy Gardner's more like a Neanderthal than anything else (a Neanderthal crossed with Rambo crossed with a power ring), and I don't know WHAT the heck Dr. Fate is supposed to be-- he's just creepy--"

"She," Beetle interrupted.

"Wha . . ?"

"Last time I saw Dr. Fate, he was definitely a _she."_

"No way! Are you sure? Because he--she--because Fate _does_ wear a helmet and a full costume and everything--"

"Booster, _trust me._ He--she--had developed some *cough* very female attributes, if you know what I mean. Wink wink, nudge nudge."

"But--I mean--wow! So did you ask her out?"

"Female attributes? What do you mean?" Majesty asked in a desperate bid to regain control of the conversation.

Blue Beetle and Booster looked up with faintly surprised expressions. "Uh . . . well, you know. Just . . . female. Feminine. Indicative of two X chromosomes," Beetle said, shifting uncomfortably.

"But if her face was covered by a full helmet, as you indicated . . ." Majesty pressed.

"I . . . it wasn't her _face_ that was . . . Booster, if you don't stop laughing _right now_--"

"But then how could you tell--" Majesty persisted.

"How about we go back to that QUESTIONING thing, huh?" Blue Beetle said loudly. "So the Justice League is like this . . . (Stop _laughing,_ Booster!) . . . It's a group of people with superpowers protecting . . . well, whoever needs protecting. Innocent people, society, puppy dogs, that sort of thing."

"'Superpowers'?" Majesty raised an eyebrow. "Like . . . ?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Super-strength, turning invisible, wielding mystical power rings, et cetera."

"And your superpowers would be . . . ?"

"Uh . . . well, technically we don't _have_ any superabilities, but--" Blue Beetle said, only to be cut off by Booster Gold.

"Beetle may not have any superpowers, but _I'm_ from the future!"

"That isn't a superpower!"

"Sure it is." Booster smiled and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, whatever." Beetle rolled his eyes. "Maybe if people from the future had an extra arm or something it would be."

"Maybe they _do_. Maybe I had one amputated." 

"Maybe you're stupid."

"Maybe YOU'RE stupid."

"Maybe you're _both_ stupid," Flare muttered in the background, over Skydancer's strangled howls of laughter. Booster shot Flare an indignant look and Blue Beetle straightened a little and acted as if he hadn't heard the remark. And the dull pounding in Majesty's temples increased . . .

"If the members of your 'Justice League' have these 'superpowers', maybe one of them sent you here," Majesty suggested, hoping to get back on track.

"Stranger things have happened, I guess," Booster Gold shrugged. "I know one guy who became a supervillain because he was colorblind . . . Don't know why anyone would want to send us here, though."

"I don't know anyone who would even _believe_ in 'here'--no offense."

"Yeah, and why would they send just us and not Batman? I mean, he was there too."

"Bat . . . man?" Majesty raised an eyebrow.

"Uh . . . think of someone dark and scary and . . . dark."

"Maybe he sent you here himself," the white unicorn suggested.

"Naaah . . . Bats doesn't have superpowers (unless you count super-arrogance.) He's . . . uh . . . kinda like a grayscale version of Beetle here."

"Should I be offended by that?"

"Are you kidding? I just compared you to _Batman!_ No one ever compares _me_ to Batman."

"Because Batman doesn't go around plastering his name on billboards and soda cans, maybe?"

"Hmph, his loss. I keep trying to convince him that a Batman movie would be a hit . . ."

Majesty twitched in irritation. She'd seen _baby_ ponies with longer attention spans. _Newborns!_ "So what exactly was this scary, dark Bat-Man talking to you about?" she asked with a faintly sarcastic edge to her voice.

_That_ shut them up. Booster Gold stood with his hands behind his back, suddenly taking great interest in the floor. Blue Beetle scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand and studiously avoided Majesty's eyes.

"Um . . ."

"Well . . ."

Majesty waited. The two humans suffered through an uncomfortable silence for about two minutes, and then both began talking simultaneously.

"So we'd just saved this busload of schoolchildren--"

"Well, after we defeated the alien invasion--"

They stopped short and exchanged glances. 

"Ah . . . we found the schoolkids on the way _back_ from defeating the invasion," Blue Beetle said hastily. "And saved them from--from--"

"Crocodiles," Booster said firmly.

"Right. Crocodiles. From the local zoo. And Batman just wanted to thank us personally--"

"And give us medals."

"Yeah. Of course, we're much too modest to accept that sort of thing--" Beetle looked at Booster for confirmation, and the blond-haired superhero nodded energetically. "--but Bats _insisted_ on the _statues_, and we didn't want him to feel bad, so--"

"Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, just because he won't let me negociate rights for a movie for him doesn't mean he's a bad guy!"

"So . . . uh . . . just as he was asking us to go make a speech for all our faithful fans waiting outside of headquarters--"

"Because who DOESN'T love the dynamic duo of Blue and Gold?"

"--everything around us went blurry and we ended up here."

"In the library," Majesty said.

Beetle shifted. "Uh . . . yeah."

"Which subsequently burnt down," the blue-haired unicorn said.

"Well . . . yeah . . ."

"Perhaps you'd care to explain?"

"Um . . . certainly. Just . . . one second." Booster and Beetle whispered back and forth briefly. Flare grumbled suspiciously in the background.

"It's like this," Booster said at last. "There was this torch on the wall--"

"Which seems like a pretty dumb place for a torch, in my opinion. I mean, why not just douse the books with gasoline?" Beetle added.

"--and, um, the sconce must not have been in the bracket tightly or something, 'cause down it came . . . but come on, it wasn't _arson!_ It was a tiny accident! A minor mishap! A slight misunderstanding! An infinitesimal error--"

"And a conflaguration that destroyed thousands of volumes, many of which were rare and some of which were irreplaceable." 

"You make it sound so _negative,"_ Blue Beetle said.

"There's also the matter of threatening two Guardians with _this_ object . . ." Majesty nodded to the little purple dragon, who hastily scurried over carrying a sleek, silver-plated weapon.

"Oh, so THAT'S where that went," Blue Beetle said. "It's, um . . ." he paused for a moment. "It's just a recording device. Really."

"And yet you shouted 'Cover your eyes' and brandished it at Flare and Blue Moon for some reason."

"Hey, I just wanted to psyche them out so we could get out of there before I had to change my name to _Burnt_ Beetle!"

"Hmm. And then, according to the reports . . ." A disbelieving note crept into Majesty's voice. " . . . you _jumped out the window?_ From _seventeen stories up?"_

"Silly me, I expected my flight ring to actually _work."_ Booster combined a snort and a shrug.

"Uh . . . _huh._ Well, that leads us up to the present . . . Is there anything you'd like to add?" Majesty asked.

"We're really sorry about the books. Honest. But these things happen, right?"

"They seem to happen more frequently since your arrival," Majesty said. At least the testimony was over--thank the Rainbow. "Well, let's check up on your story. Veracity?"

"Mm? Oh, yes." The blue unicorn who had carried Majesty's train in leapt to her hooves from her unobtrusive post at the side of the dais. 

"Uh . . . wait, who is this again?" Booster asked.

"I'm Veracity," the young unicorn said, her nose wrinkling up in a smile. "Every unicorn's got a power, right? So I can, like, tell when other ponies are lying. If I concentrate--not automatically or anything . . ."

Booster and Beetle froze.

"Anyway . . ." she smiled brightly at Majesty. "They were telling the truth about the Justice League, and not knowing how they got here, and the Batman, and Dr. Fate--which is pretty weird, because I didn't know humans could switch from being a boy to being a girl--"

Head . . . ache. "Leaving Dr. Fate aside for the moment . . ." Majesty said, squinching her eyes shut and rubbing at them with a hoof.

"Oh! Right! Uh . . . they were also telling the truth about Booster's . . . flight ring?" Veracity stretched her neck, trying to get a good look at the golden ring on Booster's hand. "Just imagine, a ring that let's you fly! That's sooooo cool . . ."

"Veracity." Majesty still had her eyes closed.

"Oops, sorry. Well . . . uh . . . that's pretty much it. Most of the other stuff was lies."

Majesty opened her eyes. _"Everything_ else."

"Well, yeah. Most of the big stuff. The torch and the silver thingie and, wow, the STATUES--"

"I _see."_ Majesty aimed a LOOK at Blue Beetle, who was holding a hand over his eyes, and Booster Gold, who had gone white as a sheet.

"Ah . . . I know this _looks_ bad," Beetle said, trying for a smile, "but if you'd just let us go into more _detail_ . . . We were trying to get across the, um, _gist_ of the situation--"

"I'm calling a recess," Majesty announced, ignoring him. "Councilers, follow me, please. We will reconvene in a half hour."

The queen of Dream Valley turned, eager to end the debacle. Her councilers filtered out of the crowd and followed her, murmuring to each other. Nevertheless, the last comment she heard as she swept out of the room through the huge oak doors came from the defendants . . .

"I think I'm gonna be sick," came the shaky remark.

"Oh God . . . Not on my _feet_ this time, huh? Stand over th--Ewwwwww! _Booster--!"_

The rest of the conversation was mercifully cut short as the door swung shut. Majesty turned to face her most trusted advisors, drawing a deep, deep breath as she struggled to decide which point to address first. How could she best serve the ponies of Dream Valley at this moment?

Like all great leaders, she swiftly chose a course of action and acted on it decisively.

"Spike?"

"Yes, Majesty?" the little purple dragon said eagerly, peering up at her.

"Grab a mop."

  



	9. Chapter 8: Sharing the Blame

_**Chapter Eight**_

  
Booster Gold and Blue Beetle sat slumped behind the long table once more. Beetle flopped backwards in his chair and stared at the intricately carved cathedral ceiling stretching above him while Booster leaned heavily on the table, each gloved hand gripping a tangle of blonde hair as he stared fixedly at the huge oak door through which Majesty and her entourage had disappeared. 

A constant murmur of voices, some angry, some interested, buzzed around them, but surprisingly all of the ponies were keeping their distance. Even Flare was only murmuring back and forth with Blue Moon rather than gloating over Veracity's devastating revelations, and Skydancer had simply nodded amiably at the humans and left. Maybe it was just that no one wanted to be too close to Booster in case he lost more of his breakfast. Majesty's dragon attendant obviously didn't want a repeat performance, judging by the glares he shot at Booster as he scrubbed up the mess in front of the dais. 

"So how are you feeling?" Blue Beetle asked after a few minutes. 

"Huh?" Booster looked up. "Oh . . . okay. Better." 

"Well, _that_ figures." 

"What?" 

"You throw up and then you don't even have the common courtesy to actually be sick," Beetle razzed half-heartedly. 

"It's not my fault; it's stress," Booster said defensively, not taking his eyes from the door. "Like that time in the Bug," he added, referring to Blue Beetle's insectoid airship. 

"I thought that was motion sickness." 

"Nah, stress." 

Beetle raised his head a fraction and asked in a mystified voice, "What's so stressful about the Bug?" 

_"You_ were flying it," Booster said. 

"Ha ha ha. You're a laugh riot." Beetle let his head drop back. "I suppose we should get some sort of plan together . . ." 

"Okay, how's this sound? They decide to trample us or poison us or whatever delightful manner of death they prefer and then we die." 

Beetle raised his head again, this time in surprise, only to discover that Booster was now flopped face-forward on the table with his shock of yellow hair spilling over his crossed arms, clearly reliving his worst moments as a defendant in the harsh courtrooms of the 25th century. 

"C'mon, Booster, don't go all manic-depressive on me," Blue Beetle said. Booster didn't move. "Hey, if worse comes to worse we'll fight our way out." 

Booster did straighten at that remark, but only to roll his eyes. "Helloooooo, earth to bug-boy! Do the words 'no working tech' mean anything to you? No flight ring, no force fields, no infrared goggles with quantitative shielding--" 

"You always forget to use the goggles anyway." 

"I do _not._ I just . . . choose not to," Booster said. "Anyway, the point is that without my suit and your gadgets, we're just two guys wearing primary colors!" 

"Maybe _you're_ just a guy in primary colors, but _I'm_ a guy in primary colors who knows half a dozen forms of martial arts," Beetle said, sounding slightly indignant. 

"So how well does karate work against two hundred ponies? Or three hundred? Or four hundred? We're not in a Bruce Lee movie, Ted!" 

"Sheesh, listen to Captain Negativity! He takes on killer robots without blinking, but face him with a few hundred measly ponies, and . . ." 

"I would appreciate it if you would not refer to us as 'measly'," came a voice from the side. Beetle looked over to see Wind Whistler still in her chair, although a safe distance from the two heroes. 

"Oh, so _you're_ still here?" Beetle said. "You know, where we come from defense attorneys actually defend their clients. Crazy concept, I know." 

"I _told_ you my position here was largely ceremonial. Besides, I gave you all the advice you needed. I told you to tell the truth--" 

_"--in a concise manner,"_ Blue Beetle finished. "To which I say 'Pot, kettle, black.' And thanks for not telling us _why_ you were dropping that particular tidbit of wisdom, by the way." 

"It wouldn't have _mattered_ why I was giving it if you had _followed_ it," Wind Whistler said testily. "Although considering what the _true_ version of your story is likely to be, it seems rather obvious why you did not."

"Meaning . . . ?" Booster asked. 

"You're guilty. If you hadn't committed the heinous crime, why were you not straightforward with Majesty? Clearly you did not want to admit your true activities because you _had_ caused the conflagration." 

"We _didn't_ mean to start any fire, and that's the truth. If we . . . _elaborated_ a little, it's because the truth was so bizarre that we didn't think anyone would believe it!" 

_"You_ thought." Booster crossed his arms. 

Beetle raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means, oh ye of little memory, that the whole cock and cow story we told was _your_ idea." 

"Excuse me? I don't recall telling you to spontaneously invent _an alien invasion!"_

"Since YOU simultaneously invented an imaginary busload of imaginary schoolchildren being attacked by imaginary crocodiles, I don't think you're one to talk!" 

"The crocodiles were YOUR idea! And it _wasn't_ exactly a lie; I mean, we must have saved a busload of schoolchildren at _some_ point . . . Not right then, necessarily, but at _some_ point . . ." 

"What about your 'recording device', huh? Got a pithy explanation for THAT?" 

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know how to explain a solar gun to a bunch of pastel . . . Wait a minute, why am I apologizing? You tossed me out a seventeenth story _WINDOW!"_

"I didn't TOSS you anywhere! I put my butt on the line to try to rescue you, Mr. Gratitude! It's not my fault my stupid flight ring wasn't working!" 

"Maybe if you had an ounce of common sense, you would've FIGURED OUT that it wasn't working, since every OTHER piece of equipment we had wasn't working!" 

Booster huffed, "Oh, so it's _my_ fault our tech doesn't work now, is it?" 

"I didn't say tha--" 

"I suppose it's _my_ fault that we got transported here too, huh?" 

"Booster, I never--" 

"How about the fire? I suppose _that's_ my fault too." 

Blue Beetle goggled at him for a minute. "YES, that was your fault, Booster. _You smacked a torch into a pile of books!"_

"See??" A few ponies near the front of the courtroom looked up, surprised by Booster's raised voice. "This is what I'm talking about! _I_ take the blame despite the fact that Ted Kord, boy genius, is the one who can't even figure out a way to get us home!" 

_"Boy genius??_ At least _I_ was old enough to vote in the last election,* Booster!" 

_"I_ was born in 2440. That makes _me_ older by over four hundred years."

_"It does not!"_

"Sure it does." He crossed his arms.

"Okay . . . _first of all,_ the fact that you're from the future would actually make _me_ older than _you_ by four centuries--"

"Pfft."

"--and _second_ of all . . . age just doesn't work that way!"

"Oh, listen to the expert! The Fearless Physicsmaster has spoken!" 

"At least I _have_ some credentials in physics," replied Beetle, his voice rising. The ponies drawing near seemed as interested in the flat stare that Booster gave Blue Beetle as they had been in Beetle's remark.

"That was low, Ted," Booster said at last. "Just because I was a sanitation specialist before I came to the 20th century--"

If Blue Beetle had seen the expression on Booster Gold's face just then, he might have apologized, but he was turning in his chair, distracted by the ponies gathering to his right, as he replied. "You were a _janitor,_ Booster."

_"So?_ We can't _all_ be born with millionaire dads to mooch off of, Ted!"

Beetle looked at him, surprised. "Geez, isn't SOMEONE touchy about certain issues! No wonder you have half a dozen taglines . . ."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean??"

"The word of the day is 'overcompensation', Corporate Crusader."

The crowd's murmuring increased as Booster's eyes narrowed behind his orange goggles. "At least _my_ taglines _make sense."_

Blue Beetle raised his eyebrows behind his own goggles. _"Meaning?"_

"Oh, come on . . . 'the Azure Avenger'?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Who have you ever avenged? Who have you ever _needed_ to avenge?"

"What a good question. Hmm, let me think . . ." Beetle tilted his head to one side in mock thought. "OH! I've got it! Maybe _Dan Garrett_, the _original_ Blue Beetle! Remember him, Booster? Remember how he _died?"_

"Yeah, I _do_ remember how he died. It was in a landslide, wasn't it? How do you _avenge_ that, exactly? Hire a backhoe and teach the ground a lesson it won't soon forget?"

"The landslide wouldn't have killed him if he hadn't been wounded by my uncle--"

" . . . who blew himself up when his crazy super-robots or whatever they were exploded. It's not avenging if your enemies accidently _detonate themselves,_ Ted. Geez, I should have your luck! I wish those stupid Manhunter robots _I_ had to deal with had blown themselves to smithereens--"

Beetle's face closed abruptly. "Don't you EVER tell me that was lucky. My friend _died."_

"Who's being touchy _now?"_

"I'm SERIOUS, Booster!"

"Well, so am I," Booster snapped, starting to stand. "But if you want to turn all broody and angsty and . . . and . . . and _Batman-y_ about it, you can do it by yourself--" 

Booster caught his foot on the leg of the table as he was standing, lost his balance, and stumbled backwards. He instinctively tried to clutch the edge of the table as he fell, but only succeeded in clipping Beetle across the ear. Later, the ponies who'd been near Booster agreed that it was clearly an accident.

From Blue Beetle's perspective, things weren't quite that clearcut.

"OW!!!" Beetle rocked under the full momentum of Booster's clenched fist. He raised a hand to his head in indignity and disbelief. "You . . . you . . . YOU HIT ME!!!"

"Uh?" Booster looked up from where he'd fallen, with one leg over the arm of his now-overturned chair. "No, wait, it was an--!"

But Beetle wasn't waiting for any more explanations. He launched himself at Booster, sending both of them skidding across the floor. The circle of ponies tightened as they fought for the best view of the two heroes. 

"Well . . ." Blue Moon paused. "At least they're not trying to escape, right Flare?"

Flare grunted as he watched Booster trying to kick Blue Beetle off and get in some punches of his own. 

"This . . . this is _shocking_ behavior," Wind Whistler said, her eyes wide. "I . . . I just don't know what to say!"

"I do," grinned one of the unicorns (Sparkler to be exact.) "Skydancer is soooooo gonna regret leaving early." 

  


  


  


* * *

_Footnotes:_

* [ The election to which Blue Beetle's referring to would be in 1980, Ronald Reagan vs. Jimmy Carter. (Reagan won.) The current year is 1982, with Booster currently a youthful twenty-two to Blue Beetle's twenty-four. ]   



	10. Chapter 9: Trial by Committee

  


_**Chapter Nine**_

  
Majesty and her councilors had been in session for three minutes before hostilities broke out. In other words, it was one of their good days. The unicorn queen wearily noted the thrumming of her headache increasing as Blueberry Basket, draped in her hallmark jewelry and gauzy scarves and well into her "mystic schtick", as Skydancer would have said, babbled about how the fate of the strangers was written in the stars (or some such nonsense) while Windy nodded eagerly, apparently hanging onto her every word. Meanwhile, Magic Star and Galaxy stared at each other with glittering eyes and lip-curling, too polite smiles over the head of the hapless Merriweather, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Majesty could sympathize.

"Getting back to the matter at hoof," Majesty interrupted Blueberry Baskets as the blue pegasus began explaining how she'd clearly foreseen the strangers' arrival earlier in the week, only she thought it was a premonition about food poisoning at the time. "I take it we can all agree that they are, in fact, guilty?"

"Is the sky blue?" Magic Star snorted, tossing her green mane.

"Actually," Galaxy said with a haughty smile, "often times the sky is grey. You'd think an earth pony would notice, seeing as they're 'in tune with the land' or whatever their special ability is . . ."

Magic Star's ostensibly benign expression slipped fractionally. Without a horn or wings, most earth ponies, or "earthlings" as they were sometimes called, tended to be a little sensitive about their lack of powers. Unicorns had magic. Pegasi could fly. Regular ponies could . . . what? Jump? Perhaps this was on Magic Star's mind when she replied sweetly, "Actually, even when all you can see is clouds, the sky behind them is still blue. You'd think a unicorn would notice, since their noses are always in the air anyway . . ." 

Galaxy glared daggers at her; Windy, also a unicorn, simply blinked.

"The mystery of the summer sky . . ." Blueberry Baskets broke in, pausing dramatically, " . . . is found in the hearts of all who believe."

Everyone briefly stared at her as she nodded sagely, causing her hoop earrings to jangle. Then Merriweather cleared his throat. "Um . . . yes. Getting back to these humans . . ."

"Yes," Majesty said, picking up the train of thought. In truth, Merriweather had only been tagged as a councilor so the group would have a token male. They were not in the dark ages any more, after all, and stallions deserved representation too. However, like most of the mares in the matriarchal society, Majesty secretly had doubts as to whether stallions were really meant for such responsibilities. Far be it from Majesty to be _sexist,_ but these were ponies whom nature hadn't even trusted to achieve a simple thing like giving birth. However, even with Merriweather's gender working against him, the purple stallion had turned out to be one of the more level-headed councilors and ponies often said of him, in kind tones, that he did his job "almost as well as a mare would." In this case, at any rate, Majesty whole-heartedly agreed with him. "Let's talk about the humans."

"Well, it's pretty obvious they did burn down the library," Galaxy said, turning away from Magic Star. "Although why I can't imagine."

"Pyromaniacs," Windy suggested.

"The real questions that the mists reveal to me," Blueberry Basket began as the other ponies silently rolled their eyes or gritted their teeth, whichever was their preference, "is where? Where do these strangers, so brightly clad in hues of gold and blue, hail from with their mysterious--"

"The other side of the rainbow," Merriweather said. "Isn't that where all humans come from? Firefly or North Star or the other pegasi are always flying over it and bringing them across . . . Rainbow knows why," he added under his breath. 

A murmur of agreement ran around the table. Without fail, the humans that the pegasus ponies chose to shuttle back to Ponyland were annoying, rude, stupid, or all of the above. Majesty had no idea why those seemed to be the criteria for gaining admission. She sometimes wondered if it was revenge on the part of the pegasi for the unpopular "no air tag within twenty feet of the castle" rule that she had set in place after Surprise got her tail tangled around one of the flags on the turrets and had to be cut loose.

"You know . . . even with the library gone, I'd almost rather have them around than that little brat Molly," Magic Star said. Galaxy snorted loftily, but mostly looked irritated that Magic Star had said something for which no convincing rebuttal could be made.

"They have better names," Windy added.

"Yeah. What were they again? Blue Beetle and something-or-other Yellow?"

"Gold. Booster Gold," Majesty said. 

"I wonder what a 'booster' is," Merriweather commented, but no one knew.

"Humans are such funny creatures--all gangly legs and no faces to speak of and those strange . . . _thumbs,"_ Windy said. "But at least these ones are colorful."

"They _are,"_ agreed Magic Star, nodding her yellow head. "And even though their skin is the same pasty pale beige we've seen before, at least they have enough sense to cover it up with bright colors instead of decorating themselves with some horrible shade of pink like Megan and Molly always do." 

Galaxy, who happened to be pinkish-lavender herself, looked disgruntled, but before she could come up with a scathing reply, Merriweather said, "They've even got symbols, almost . . . that Booster person had a blue star on his chest and Blue Beetle had those . . . bug legs, I guess they were."

"Ahem. Speaking of Blue Beetle and Booster Gold . . ." Majesty's ears twitched. Had she heard a muffled yowl from behind the great oak door leading to the throne room? " . . . Blueberry Baskets had a good point. Veracity, er, _verified_ that they really didn't know how they arrived here. That being the case, it seems unlikely that they arrived by pegasus . . ."

"Well, maybe they were asleep." 

"Maybe they have amnesia!"

"Ooooo, you don't suppose they were KIDNAPPED, do you?"

"I really don't think they slept through a turbulent flight and they certainly appear to remember everything _else_ about their lives, so I'm thinking _not_ amnesia," Majesty said drily. "As for kidnapping . . . who would want them?"

"Point," Galaxy agreed thoughtfully.

"Their comrades-in-arms flaunt their mighty powers, wielding them in the name of justi--"

"If Blueberry's talking about those Justice League people the humans were talking about, I think she has a point . . . for once," Magic Star added under her breath. "They said they worked with people with all kinds of 'superpowers' . . ."

"It sounded like magic to me!" Windy offered.

"Right. And if they _do_ have magic, that could be how Blue Beetle and Booster Gold got here," Magic Star nodded. "Personally, I'd like to know exactly how Dr. Fate changed genders," she added parenthetically. 

"But Booster and Beetle themselves didn't know about it. So if the 'Justice League' _was_ responsible, why didn't they know about it? They're members too . . . "

"Are you kidding, Merri? What's the first thing YOU'D do if you had to deal with those two every day? Find some way to get rid of them! Great Rainbow, they're worse than Skydancer!"

Galaxy nodded. "They seemed addicted to witty banter, did you notice?"

"Define 'witty'," Magic Star said.

"Maybe we could magic away Baby Lickety-Split . . ." Blueberry Baskets said wistfully. There was a brief pause as everyone simultaneously lent serious consideration to this proposal.

"That . . . would be a mean thing to do," Windy said at last, without conviction.

"We are _not_ going to 'magic away' any of my subjects," Majesty confirmed in a firm tone of voice. Still--she thought about the baby pony's constant whining and tantrums--one could wish. "At any rate . . ." She thought, she almost _thought_ she heard a faint crash from the throne room. Probably just her imagination. ". . . there's still the matter of their punishment. Opinions?"

"They burnt down the library." Galaxy swished her multi-colored tail. "Throw the book at them."

"I don't know . . . they seemed more confused than malicious to me," Merriweather frowned. "Generally I'd say that no sentient being could possibly cause such wanton destruction without intending to, but with _those_ two I could actually see it." 

"Their fates are written in the stars, their vast journey's beginning etched in moonlight and stardust--"

"Yes, thank you, Blueberry. Next?"

"They were _very careless,"_ Windy said. "We should lock them up for their own good if they can start fires _that_ easily."

Magic Star said bluntly, "They started a fire and then lied about it. What's there to debate?"

Again, a sound like something heavy falling could be heard thudding distantly behind the chamber's door. Ignoring the distraction, Majesty rose to her hooves. "Thank you, this discussion has been very helpful." 

The snowy white unicorn walked around the table, her cape trailing behind her as she marched towards the door. The other ponies also stood, milling casually behind her.

"Hope they throw them in the dungeons for good--"

"I wonder if any more humans will turn up?"

_"--still_ want to know about Dr. Fate . . ."

Majesty ignored their murmurs as she pushed the door wide and strode solemnly through. Then, her solemnity abruptly forgotten, she stood with her mouth wide open, staring.

The shrieks and crashes that had been so effectively rendered mute by the heavy oaken door were now in full evidence, not to mention the cheers from the excited crowd. Most of the wooden tables were now overturned and at least one was broken. The cushions, formerly laid out in neat rows, had been pushed and piled in untidily here and there. As if to illustrate the cause of their disarray, a blur of blue and gold tumbled across the floor, kicking up feathers as it skidded across the room, accompanied by shouted insults from the human combatants and a new round of encouragement from the congregated ponies. 

"Two-bit time chauvinist!"

"Jerk!"

"Corporate puppet!"

"Jerk!"

"Overrated, self-absorbed, self-centered, obnoxious excuse for a superhero!"

_"Jerk! Jerk! Jerk!"_

Majesty's jaw closed with a click as she watched Blue Beetle and Booster Gold tussling, punching and kicking and generally trying to knock each other senseless. Her subjects certainly weren't helping matters. Blue Moon and Flare were watching with an air of resigned detachment, while Firefly appeared to be taking bets on the outcome of the fight. Parasol, for once, had a huge grin on her face as she watched the two erstwhile superheroes slam into a wall, propelled by their own momentum. Blue Beetle, who had the upper hand, being trained in martial arts, kicked Booster off. To be fair, Booster would probably have done much better if his flight ring weren't malfunctioning; as it was, he kept instinctively trying to take to the air, which only accomplished rather silly looking jumps backwards, about two feet off the ground. Nevertheless, he did manage to elbow Blue Beetle in the stomach as the Azure Avenger tackled him again.

At last Majesty found her voice. "THAT WILL BE ENOUGH!"

The clamor immediately died down as the crowd turned towards her, startled and shamefaced. Booster and Beetle froze in mid-fight . . . Blue Beetle gripping a handful of Booster's hair in one hand, the other balled up in a fist, and Booster having just succeeded in catching Beetle's goggles and pulling them askew.

_"What_ do you think you're doing?" Majesty ground out.

After a moment's stunned silence, Booster released Beetle's goggles with a snap. Unfortunately, neither hero was fully prepared for the move, and both ended up collapsing backwards onto the floor.

"Um . . . ah . . . we were . . . having a little . . . argument . . ."

"A disagreement that _broke the table?"_

"We're . . . very intent about our arguments," Beetle said faintly.

"I SEE." _You only have to deal with them for a few more minutes,_ Majesty reminded herself. _Just a few more._ She continued glaring at them, but again the miraculously short attention span of the humans came into play.

"Are you okay, Beetle?" Booster shifted to look at his companion, still seated on the floor.

"Yeah. Your nose is bleeding, though."

"Aw, it does that all the time." Booster absently pulled off his glove and wiped the trickle of blood away. 

"Sorry about, y'know, kicking you in the stomach like that. That was probably a little over the edge . . ."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have punched you into the table."

"They don't make them like they used to, do they?"

"Nope. Here, let me give you a hand . . ."

"Thanks, buddy."

"No problem. You know, you really pack a punch. Good thing we're usually on the same side . . ."

"Well, it would've been a different story if your force fields and ring were working . . ."

Majesty stared. And then she closed her eyes. And then she stared again. 

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she burst out; they looked up in surprise. "First you beat each other up and then you compliment each other on your techniques?? WHY DID YOU EVEN BOTHER FIGHTING???"

"Hey, we were . . . uh . . . why _were_ we fighting?"

"I dunno . . . didn't you smack me when you were standing up or something?"

"No . . . I mean, I _did_, but it was an accident. I caught my foot and tripped."

"Oh. Well." Beetle looked up at Majesty. "Booster tripped," he said, as though no further explanation was necessary. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it _made sense._

Majesty felt a vein throbbing in her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered something about calm, cool, seamless lakes.

"So . . . what comes next?" Booster asked, making a rather unattractive snerking sound as he tilted his head back to stop his nosebleed.

"Next," Majesty said in a low, ominous voice, "comes your _sentence."_

Blue Beetle and Booster Gold's pasty beige skin suddenly turned very pale indeed.

  



	11. Chapter 10: Judgement

  


_**Chapter Ten**_

  
A hush fell upon the makeshift courtroom as crowd of ponies, not to mention the two superheroes, stared up at Majesty, her shoulders framed by her scarlet cloak, standing regally on the shining white dais. 

At last Majesty spoke. "After giving careful thought to the . . . situation . . . I have reached a decision," she announced.

"Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty," Booster willed under his breath. 

"The verdict, of course, is guilty--"

"D'oh," muttered Booster.

"--which leaves the matter of sentencing."

A short, tense silence followed as she looked down at them. Blue Beetle shifted uneasily under the unicorn's blue eyes; Booster looked as though he might throw up again.

Perhaps motivated by a desire to keep the floor clean, Majesty's voice was a bit more hurried as she continued. "So anyway . . . ahem . . . I took all aspects into consideration, including the severity of the crime, your intentions, and your probable lifespan--"

"I KNEW IT! They're going to KILL US! _Do_ something, Ted!!" Booster pushed Blue Beetle in front of him. 

The Azure Avenger scrambled backwards. _"Me?_ Why don't _you_ do something??"

"'Cause I'm a tech guy without tech and YOU'RE a martial artist _with_ martial arts! And don't say you aren't, because you were just kicking me around the room with them!"

"What happened to 'You're not Bruce Lee, Ted! You can't take them all at once, Ted!'?" Beetle mimicked, anxiously surveying the considerable crowd of ponies, all of whom were regarding him with curiosity and interest rather than fear. A couple of the bulky, Clydesdale type ponies actually looked eager for a fight.

"Beetle, you'll never know until you try," Booster admonished.

"Oh, color me thrilled . . ."

"Stop being ridiculous." Recovering from her surprise, Majesty frowned at them. "We aren't going to do you any harm; it's just that your kind never seems to live very long--"

"She's doing it again! Beetle!"

"Booster, _stop shoving!"_

"Oh, for the love of the Rainbow!" The blue-haired unicorn queen rolled her eyes. "All I meant was that human beings _in general_ don't have very long lifespans compared to ponies!"

"We don't??"

"Why? How long do _you_ guys live?" Beetle asked cautiously.

"Forever," Majesty said simply.

"Oh. Ah."

"I'd like to add a qualifier to that," said a pale pink pony with a cascade of rainbow hair and a wry smile. "We live forever . . . right up until we become fodder for the latest war--not that we've had any of _those_ lately, thank the Rainbow--or get gobbled up by the Arcane Menace of the Week--dragons, mostly--or die in construction accidents. Near-immortality has its drawbacks, and one of them is that you always end up dying in really stupid ways--"

"Yes, thank you, Parasol," Majesty said hastily. "At any rate, I assumed you wouldn't want a sentence of, say, three hundred years, for example--"

_"Definitely not,"_ Booster said emphatically.

"--so I scaled it down to fit in with your lifespan."

"Good . . . good . . . scaling down is good . . ." said Blue Beetle. He added in a whisper, "See, Booster? Everything's gonna be just fine. They'll lock us up for a couple weeks, maybe a month, and then--"

"The sentence is thirty years in the castle dungeons, starting immediately."

"--they'll let us out and we can WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??? THIRTY YEARS??"

_"Thirty years??"_ Booster echoed in a wail. "We'll be OLD by then! And what about my _market share?"_

Majesty's royal blue tail swished as her eyes narrowed. "Thirty years," she repeated.

"Look . . . there's obviously been some mistake," Blue Beetle said in his most reasonable voice. "Maybe you meant _three_ years. I work with numbers a lot; I know how easy it is to tack on an extra zero. Or . . . or maybe you meant thirty _months--"_ He paused, then frantically hissed to Booster, "Quick, which would be shorter--three years or thirty months??"

"Uh . . . uh . . . thirty divided by twelve is two-point-something . . . Months!"

"Yeah. Thirty months," Blue Beetle smiled brightly.

"Or . . . or maybe we could just _replace_ the books. I'm sure, if we can just get home, we can get the Martian Manhunter to donate some. He's very literate, for an extraterrestrial--"

"We're really sorry about the library. Did we mention that? Really sorry."

"And anything we can do to make up for it--um, aside from jailtime--"

"Right. I'm . . . I think I'm allergic to jails."

"Oh, me too. Definitely. I break out. In hives."

"Hey, I know! Instead of jail, we can help you patrol your city or castle or whatever you've got here and keep things safe! How about that?"

"Ooo, great idea, Beetle! Yeah, we're professional crimefighters, you know!"

"Yeah, just imagine what we could do if we could roam freely every day!"

"I'm imagining," Majesty said. "You know, perhaps I _did_ make a mistake . . ."

"Aha! I knew it!"

"Make that _forty_ years."

Beetle's smile was frozen. "F-forty. Ah. But . . . I mean, um, maybe it could be community service instead of this whole dungeon business--"

Majesty's expression of irritation increased. "Fifty."

"Beetle, shut up!" Booster Gold frantically elbowed him in the ribs. "You're just making things worse!"

"Well, I don't see you doing any better!"

"Well, at least I'm not _jacking up our jail sentence!"_

"Don't you ever stop?" Majesty sighed wearily.

"Stop what?" Booster asked. "Look, seriously, you can't do this to us! We're members of the Justice League! We're _heroes!"_

"Heroes who burn down libraries."

Booster's voice rose a notch. "It was an _accident!"_

"I'm sorry, Booster Gold, but even heroes have to accept responsibility for their actions. _Especially_ heroes," Majesty said firmly.

_"'Especially_ heroes'," Blue Beetle mimicked under his breath. "Any minute now I expect Superman to pop out and give us the moral of the day."

"Can we not bring up Superman, please? This is bad enough as it is," Booster said, crossing his arms.

"That's all. Court is adjourned." Majesty stamped her foot once. "Snippy, Crunch Berry . . . take the prisoners away, please. Far away. Far, far away . . ." 

There was an undeniable note of relief in her voice as two ponies, one yellow with light pink hair and one a rather hideous combination of mauve and chartreuse, stepped forward, flanking the humans. 

"Okay, let's go," the ugly mauve pony said (presumably Crunch Berry, since her symbol was a bowl of ice cream.) 

"Right, we don't want trouble . . . well, maybe a _little_ trouble. I wouldn't mind getting some of the kinks out of my legs . . ." She kicked backwards by way of demonstration, grinning as she did so.

Beetle eyed her with disgust. "You ponies have some _serious_ issues." With a martyred sigh, he allowed himself to be herded out of the throne room.

"This is bad," Booster Gold said as he glanced over his shoulder at Crunch Berry and Snippy, then in front of him, where the marble hallways stretched on and on, decorated with tapestries. The tapestries grew older, more and more faded and tattered, as their guards continued directing them through the halls, and the air grew more cold and damp with every step. "Really bad."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Blue Beetle said, more snappishly than he intended. Booster didn't reply.

At last, they reached a pair of huge iron double doors stretched across a dilapidated hallway. Two unicorns sat in front of it, both raising their eyebrows when they saw Snippy and Crunch Berry and their prisoners.

"Two for the dungeons, Majesty's orders," Crunch Berry said simply.

"Good enough," one of the unicorns said as she opened the doors with a grinding creak. "Go on, then."

"In _there?"_ Booster balked, but Crunch Berry whacked her nose into his back, sending him stumbling forward. "Testy," the Corporate Crusader muttered, regaining his balance.

Snippy and Crunch Berry continued to closely follow the two humans, although they no longer needed to direct them . . . There was only a single, narrow passage leading from the ominous door, and it sloped down. Down, down, down.

"Bad," Booster muttered again, his eyes flicking from side to side. 

"Don't worry," Blue Beetle whispered, leaning towards him. "I have a plan."

"Oh, thank God!" Booster whispered back. "What is it?"

Blue Beetle gave him a sheepish grin. "I haven't figured that out yet . . ."

  



	12. Chapter 11: What Lies Beneath

  


**_Chapter Eleven_**  


"Well, you'd better think of something quick," Booster muttered, giving Blue Beetle a look. 

"I'm working on it, okay?" 

"Work _faster."_

"Y'know, it wouldn't hurt for _you_ to think of a plan for once." 

"I already _know_ the plan." 

"You _do?"_

"Yeah. We need to escape." 

"Oh, brilliant deduction, Holmes. How?" 

"Hey, I can't be expected to come up with every little detail! That's _your_ job." 

_"Mine?"_

"Right. I'm the idea guy. You're the details guy." 

"Really." 

"Sure. That's why we make such a good team, right?" 

"We do?" 

"Of _course_ we do," Booster said, giving Beetle an admonishing look for daring to doubt. "Blue and Gold! We're the original dynamic duo!" 

"I thought that was Batman and Robin." 

"They don't count. Urban legends. Besides, who wants to hang out with a twelve year old?" 

"You have a point. Think Bats ever has problems with child labor laws?" 

"I dunno." Booster tilted his head thoughtfully. "Probably not. I mean, officially he doesn't even exist." 

"Batman gets a lot of mileage out of that urban legend thing, huh?" 

"Yeah, but he misses all the best advertising opportunities . . ." 

From behind them, Snippy made an irritated snorting sound and the heroes lapsed into silence for a few minutes. 

Finally Beetle said, "You know . . . some people might argue that getting captured by pastel ponies isn't exactly a great example of our superheroic prowess." 

"Yeah, well, some people are _stupid,"_ Booster Gold said crossly. (He'd just stubbed his toe.) "Didn't the original JLA nearly get ousted a starfish one time? I mean, a starfish! That's not even a vertebrate!" 

"Mm," Beetle said doubtfully. "It was a space starfish, though. A giant space starfish. With mental powers and things." 

"Well, so? It's not like these are normal_ ponies._ They talk and have wings and magic and castles and . . . and _pinkness_ and things." He gestured vaguely in Crunch Berry's direction, so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice that she snapped at his yellow-gloved hand as he waved it under her nose. "Anyway, the original JLA had five members. There are only two of us, so I think we're doing pretty well. Heck, we're one of the best superteams around, not counting the JSA and the Titans and the Suicide Squad and the Doom Patrol--" 

"And Justice League International?" 

"We're _part_ of the Justice League, so that doesn't make a difference." 

"Ah. Two teams for the price of one." 

"Uh huh. The JLI would do better if they'd let us work together more, though. J'onn keeps sending me on missions with _Batman._ Have you ever tried having a conversation with Batman? I think he's just got a recording under his cowl timed to repeat 'Hn', 'Grr', 'Stop that', and 'Booster, pay attention' at random intervals." 

"Yeah, well, J'onn keeps sending _me_ on recon missions with our resident Green Lantern," Beetle complained. "Who in their right mind uses _Guy Gardner_ for reconnaissance anyway? His idea of subtlety is using a big green hammer on a villain's HQ instead of a big green chainsaw." 

"If only they'd listen to us," Booster sighed. "We really do have the team concept down pat. We compliment each other." 

"Well . . ." Beetle objected. "You _did_ call me a jerk . . ." 

"Not _that_ kind of compliment, dummy." 

"And just now you called me a dummy." 

Booster rolled his eyes. "Now you're doing it on purpose." After a minute's reflection, he added, "Anyway, you called _me_ all sorts of names. A 'time chauvinist'? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Well . . ." Blue Beetle sounded embarrassed. "I don't know, it just came to me. You know--spur of the moment." 

"Huh." 

Pause.

"For the record, I don't _really_ think you're obnoxious or overrated. And you're not _that_ self-centered." 

"Thanks . . . I think. You're only a jerk _part_ of the time." 

"Thanks Boost--hey!" The last remark was due to Snippy poking him in the back with her nose. 

"You always talk this much?" she asked, eyeing him. 

"At _least_ this much," Booster confirmed. 

"Well, stop it." She looked from one human to the other, eyes narrowed. Beetle's expression settled into one of disgruntlement and Booster frowned, but neither replied.

They continued on, at the ponies' promptings. For a while the only sound was the echoing hoofsteps of their guards prodding them onward. Eventually the empty corridor gave way to rows of dry, musty cells, formed by row on row of iron bars standing sentinel between slabs of stone. Most were empty, with their barred metal doors slid back, open. (Because the hallway was not wide, the doors were set on runners so they rolled back, parallel to the walls, instead of swinging outward on hinges.) Considering it was a dungeon, they were all amazingly, uniformly clean--dry and piled with clean hay in the corners. Nonetheless, the humans eyed the empty cells with a kind of nervous, understated horror. There was no good way to be imprisoned.

"Did you come up with a plan yet?" Booster whispered.

"Well . . . no. I think we're going to have to wing it," Beetle returned in a low, conspiritorial voice.

"So we just blunder through the situation, as per usual?"

"It's always gotten us through in one piece before--" Blue Beetle cut off abruptly as Crunch Berry picked up her pace and swung in front of him so quickly he nearly ran into her. "Hey, what gives?" he demanded, taking a cautious step backwards as he eyed the mauve pony now blocking his path.

"A scheduled stop on our little tour," she smirked at the heroes as they heard the creaking grind of metal against metal behind them. Beetle's eyes flicked backwards, then settled suspiciously on Crunch Berry again as he aimed an untrusting glare at her, but Booster Gold turned in time to see Snippy finish pulling back the door to an adjacent cell. He tensed.

"Ah . . . Beetle? This would be a really great time to surprise me by saying you have a plan after all--" His eyes were locked on the empty, ominous gap waiting between the sets of bars, and that proved to be his undoing . . . for as Booster stepped backwards, towards Blue Beetle, he didn't notice that Snippy had circled around behind him until he felt her head strike him in the back with surprising force, sending him stumbling forward into the waiting cell.

"Hey! Ow!" Booster lost his balance, but was more indignant than hurt as he sat up, shaking straw out of his hair. "Geez! Ever hear of excessive force?"

"Booster! Hey, are you okay?" Beetle hurried towards him, but Booster was already pushing himself to his feet.

"Fine, fine." He glanced down at his uniform, dusting himself off as he stepped forward. "I'm just--" 

With a metallic screech, the iron door rattled back into place, and Booster suddenly found himself separated from Blue Beetle by some slightly rusty and very sturdy ironwork. It was hard to say whether Beetle or Booster looked more surprised by this turn of events as they stared at each other through the bars.

"Uh . . . hey." Booster blinked his blue eyes. 

"Um . . . what just . . . ? I mean, shouldn't I be . . .? I didn't just get pardoned or something, did I?" Beetle looked just as confused as he looked from Booster to the ponies. 

_"Please."_ Crunch Berry snorted. "Don't delude yourself."

"But . . . then . . ." He cast a worried glance at Booster as Snippy shoved in front of him, forcing him to back away from the cell.

"What, you thought we'd put you both in the same cell so you could plot what to burn down next? How stupid do you think we are?" Crunch Berry said.

"We didn't mean to--we wouldn't--hey, leave him alone!" Booster gripped the bars, pulling at the door in the futile hope that the ponies had carelessly left it unlocked as Snippy pinned Beetle against the wall with her shoulder.

"I'm okay, Booster, I'm just--" Blue Beetle tried to twist away; the yellow pony casually leaned harder. _"Damn,_ these little horses are strong," he muttered.

There was a quick, sharp crack as Snippy swung and belted him with a clout of her head. "That's _ponies,"_ she said as Blue Beetle folded neatly onto the floor, unconscious.

Booster's eyes widened in shock and horror. Crunch Berry's reaction was more casual.

"Oh, Great Rainbow . . . what did you have to go and do that for, Snippy?"

"Beetle?"

"He was going to act up. I could tell."

"Beetle?"

"But now we'll have to _carry_ him," the mauve pony grumbled.

"Beetle? Ted? Beetle?"

Booster was working hard to keep the anxiety out of his voice, telling himself that the fact that Blue Beetle was lying in an apparent unconscious huddle on the smooth stone floor was simply a clever trick by the Azure Avenger. But it became harder to convince himself when Crunch Berry leaned down, grabbed a mouthful of Blue Beetle's costume, and flopped him bonelessly across Snippy's back. 

"Hey--" Snippy scowled.

"You knocked him out, you carry him."

_"Beetle??"_

Crunch Berry finally turned to examine him through the bars. "They certainly are _loud,_ aren't they, Snippy?"

"As far as I can tell they never shut up," the yellow pony confirmed. "We should have knocked them out to begin with."

"Listen you--you--you _donkey!_ He'd better not be hurt or I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"Ah. Listen to the hero. I _know_ what you'll do, human. You'll sit in your little cell." Snippy took a casual step towards the bars, carefully because of her load. Beetle's arms swung slightly, draped over her flank. "Although whether you could do anything effective even if you were free is questionable."

"Let me out of here and we'll see how effective I am, you stupid little horse!" Booster said hotly, rattling the bars, but she merely smirked and turned away, slowly striding down the hall with Blue Beetle draped over her back and Crunch Berry clip-clopping beside here. "HEY! I'm talking to you!" Booster shouted, moving to the edge of his cell so he could keep them in sight as long as he could as they moved down the narrow hall. 

He shook the bars again as they finally turned a corner and moved out of sight. His stomach was twisting. Now what? He turned in a circle, hoping for inspiration, but the closely confined area only contained mounds of straw, one of which had a huddle of purple blanket draped wanly over it. He turned back to the door and threw his weight against it a few times before concluding that he would only gain a bruised shoulder if he persisted. The bars were too closely set to squeeze through. He turned in a circle again. This was bad. Really, really bad. He was trapped. He was alone. Beetle was out cold, being dragged who-knew-where. The only good thing Booster could think of, as he paced up and down his cell, was that stressed though he was, his stomach was too empty for him to vomit as he normally would have.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. This is all . . . it's all _J'onn's_ fault." Booster knew he was being unfair, but he was far beyond caring. "Him and his stupid _oreos."_

He pressed close to the bars again, staring down the hallway in the futile hope that Blue Beetle really _had_ been doing a remarkable job of faking, and that he would trot down the hall in time to pop off a witty one-liner. Of course, the cell-lined hall remained empty.

_"Damn it!"_ Booster swirled and aimed a vicious kick at the blanket-covered straw in the corner. Due to his momentum and the fact that the bundle of blanket proved surprisingly solid, he tripped forward over it as well, crashing painlessly in a stack of loose hay.

"Stupid . . . sprocking . . ." Booster pushed himself upright, as he spit out straw. "Not bad enough that I'm stuck here by myself, but then I have to . . . have to . . ." 

He trailed away, staring at the shadow slowly creeping up the wall in front of him even as he heard the heavy shuffle of something large hefting to its full height behind him. As he heard the soft rustling of a blanket fluttering to the floor, he suddenly found himself wishing that he _was_ stuck there by himself after all. 


	13. Chapter 12: Omens

  


**_Chapter Twelve_**

  
Booster whirled, crouching in a fighting stance that he'd seen Blue Beetle use before. Of course, Blue Beetle, being trained in martial arts, would have had some idea what to do _after_ the stance, which was knowledge that Booster unfortunately lacked. But at least it looked impressive. He hoped.

As his eyes traveled up the massive, fetlocked hooves, the thick, muscular legs, and the sheer bulk of the white Clydesdale stallion looming in front of him, glaring with glowing purple eyes, Booster hoped it looked REALLY REALLY impressive. The pony shifted, shaking his dark purple mane out of his face as he scowled at the human.

"What's the big idea?" the pony said.

"Wha-what?" Booster said, somewhat taken aback. With his current run of luck, he had expected to be attacked right off, but the white Clydesdale sounded more irritated than anything else.

"I said, 'What's the big idea?' Kicking me like that." He gave Booster a disgruntled look as he picked up the purple spread of blanket in his teeth and neatly set it aside on the bed of straw. "What are you, anyway? Some kind of elf?"

"Some kind of--? No, I'm definitely _not."_

The pony sidled a few steps to the side, tilting his head critically to look at Booster from a different angle. "You have two legs. And hands. And thumbs. That makes you an elf, right? Although you look kind of tall for an elf."

"I'm _not_ an elf! I'm a human!"

"Oh. I've heard of those." The pony sounded nonplused. "They're like elves, only bigger and more boring, right?"

Booster was, for once, speechless as he straightened indignantly.

"So what's your name, human?" the pony continued, sitting down on a pile of soft straw.

"I'm Booster. Booster Gold." Weary and discouraged from the day's events, the yellow-haired superhero didn't even add a flourish to his name as he plunked himself down on a stack of straw on the other side of the cell. "Who are you?"

"They call me Omen," the Clydesdale said. 

"Oh." Booster noticed for the first time that the pony had silver comets emblazoned on his flanks. All the ponies had markings like that, featuring various objects (the strangest so far had been one that, even at a distance, bore an uncanny resemblance to the Chuck E. Cheese logo), although Booster couldn't imagine why. At the moment he really didn't _care_ why, either. He wandered back to the barred door and peered down the hallway again. 

"So what are you in for?" Omen asked, fixing the human with an intent look.

"Oh . . . you know . . . stuff," Booster said vaguely, testing the bars and discovering that they had not weakened significantly in the past thirty seconds.

"How specific." The pony rolled his eyes.

Booster didn't care for his tone, and because of this there was a slight edge to his voice when he returned, "Oh yeah? Why are _you_ here?"

"Well, it's like this . . ." The stallion had a slightly conspiritorial tone to his voice as he leaned forward, as though trusting Booster with a very important secret. "It really more of a _misunderstanding_ than anything else. Do you know who Parasol is? Well, no, I suppose you wouldn't . . ."

Booster thought back. "Pale pink pony, multi-colored hair, bad attitude?"

"Oh, so you did see her."

"She was ranting about immortality and . . . I think I saw her cheering from the sidelines when I got kicked against the west wall of the courtroom."

Omen raised an eyebrow. "Kicked into the--? Well . . . anyway . . . I came into town, fresh from Dreamquay, and I may have _inadvertently_ set off this chain of events--"

"Oh man, I know what that's like!"

"Ah, I thought maybe you would. Well, there's a pretty big rift between the standard stallions and the Clydesdales here--the standard ones are the ones without the feathering around their hooves," he explained parenthetically. "And I'm afraid _somehow_ they twisted a few _innocent comments_ I made into this _bet."_

"What kind of bet?" 

"They bet on which group--Clydesdales or standards--could get one of their number married to Parasol first."

"Marry? _Her?"_ Booster thought about the gleeful way Parasol had tossed her head when Blue Beetle kicked him in the stomach. "Just how desperate were these guys?"

"My reaction exactly," Omen nodded. "As you can imagine, it led to no end of trouble. A lot of it was Skydancer's fault. He's a yellow pegaus--"

"I know who he is," Booster said, remembering the pony who had dropped by to antagonize Flare.

"Yes. Quite the prankster, apparently. But Tex and his gang certainly didn't help matters. Tex--yellow Clydesdale, dark pink hair with a blue streak--"

"Oh, that guy." Booster thought. "His hair looked . . . maybe it was just me, but it almost looked _crimped . . ."_

"Aftermath of the bet," Omen explained.

"Ah. But--wait--they blamed _you_ for all this?"

"That's right," Omen said, with a sigh of self-sustained pity. "And _I_ wasn't one of the ones courting Parasol at all!"

"That's not fair!" Booster straightened a little more, full of indignation. "And they actually _threw you in jail_ over it??"

"That's right. Although," Omen added as an afterthought, "at least I'm far, far away from Parasol. She scares me," he said in an undertone.

"You and me both." 

"So . . . what about you?"

Booster supposed he owed the pony an answer. "Burnt down the library," he said shortly.

Omen's eyes widened. "Really!"

"But it was an _accident,"_ he added hastily. "We didn't mean to . . ."

"'We'?"

"Yeah, me and Blue Beetle . . ."

"Blue Beetle? Another elf?"

_"We're not elves."_ "Human, elf, whatever." Omen seemed unconcerned by the distinction. "They're both bipeds. What's the difference?"

Booster didn't know enough about elves to reply, so he simply peered down the hallway again.

"Took him down there, did they?" Omen asked with interest. "Those are the pegasus cells. Extra room, just enough for them to hover, and a ledge for them to perch on, as I recall. They've got enough empty cells that they can just plunk anyone in them, though, not just pegasi. Wish I'd gotten one."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, there's no method to their madness when it comes to tossing ponies--and other creatures--in the cells. Just luck of the draw."

"Ah."

"So this is your first time in prison?" 

"Yes . . . no . . . it is _here,"_ Booster said distractedly. 

"Well, there are worse, believe me," Omen said, casually leaning back against the wall. "This is paradise compared to the dungeons in Dreamquay. Moldy, musty, and dank, dank, dank. That's the trouble with getting in trouble in a seaport." 

Booster found himself wishing that Omen would just shut up. "How long until they feed us?" he asked, not really caring what the answer was. His stomach was still surging rebelliously, but he figured it was a question Omen actually had a chance of answering, unlike the questions that Booster was actually worried about, like 'Where did they take Blue Beetle?', 'Is he okay?' and 'How the heck am I going to get out of THIS one?' 

In response to the superhero's query regarding mealtimes, Omen simply kicked over a wad of hay. "Help yourself." 

Booster twisted his head to look at the pony, look at the hay, and then slumped forward in a gesture of defeat, his forehead pressing against the cool metal bars as he let his arms dangle through the bars, resting on the horizontal crossbar as they dangled into the hallway. "Great . . ." 

"Heeeey, now . . ." Booster opened one eye and found Omen regarding him with his head cocked in a thoughtful, shrewd expression. "You might be more useful than I thought. Let's see those hands of yours." 

"What?" Booster stared at him in confusion, straightening a bit. 

"Your hands," the white stallion repeated impatiently. "Let me see 'em." 

Booster hesitated, then shrugged, pulling his arms back into the cell and stretching his hands, palms down, for the Clydesdale's inspection. 

"Hmmm . . ." The pony stared at Booster's gloved hands with supreme interest. "And you elv--er, humans--can move all your fingers independantly, right?" 

"Yesss . . . " 

"Pretty accurately? You can wiggle them pretty much anyway you want?" 

"Well, I'm not double-jointed or anything--" 

"You won't have to be," Omen assured him, smiling widely. "You know, Buster--" 

"Booster." 

"Whatever. It was more than random chance and the snarkiness of the guards that brought you here today. It was _destiny!"_

"Oh?" Booster said cautiously. 

"Yep. You see," Omen confessed, "I've been in slightly, ahem, unpleasant situations before. In dungeons." 

"Okaaay . . ." 

"So I have this little . . . call it a _contingency plan_ . . . for these kinds of situations." 

"And that would be?" 

"A talisman enchanted to open any lock." The pony nodded in satisfaction, causing his dark purple mane to shift. 

"Useful," Booster said thoughtfully, reflecting on all the potential applications such a devise could have. Batman thought the Batmobile was "secure", did he? "But what happened? Did the guards take it away from you?" 

"Oh, no. I swallowed it before they tossed me in here," Omen said matter-of-factly. "Then it was a simple matter of coughing it up. Now _that_ takes some practice, but it's a lot more pleasant than waiting for it to come out the other en--" 

"Okay, heard enough about that, thanks," Booster said quickly, squinching his eyes shut and making a face. 

"Well, anyway . . . everything was going according to plan. I had just hocked up the charm when--you know those stories about mice and chipmunks and things befriending poor, lonely prisoners?" 

"I haven't heard any with chipmunks, but yeah, I know the general concept. What about it?" 

"Well, the friendly, sympathetic animals in those tales are about as genuine as a black rainbow, my friend. In reality, no sooner had the runed stone hit the floor than a dirty grey rat scrambled out of his hole in the wall, grabbed it in his teeth, and scurried off again before I could do more than take a few ill-aimed stomps at him and swear." 

Booster felt his scalp prickle. "There are . . . there are _rats_ here?" 

"This particular rat was longer than my hoof." (Omen's hooves were as big as dinner plates.) 

"But it wasn't . . . I mean, it couldn't have been a _wharf rat,_ right?" Booster asked, now balancing on the balls of his feet as though prolonged exposure to the floor might summon the animal in question. 

"Well . . . no, I don't think so. Dream Valley is landlocked . . ." Omen looked at him sideways. 

Booster felt a little better at this, but only a little. He stared at the piles of straw, imagining little black noses sniffing at him from underneath as sharp, beady black eyes bore into him. 

"Anyway . . ." Omen sidled into Booster's line of sight, perhaps hoping to stop his eyes from flitting around as if he expected to be deluged by rodents any minute. "The little bugger never pulled it out again and of course I couldn't get into his burrow to get it, but you . . ." He smiled reverently at Booster's yellow gloves. "You have _hands._ Skinny, small, convenient, wonderful hands . . ." 

"Wait . . . are you saying . . . ? You want me, ME, to reach _into a rathole?"_ To say Booster was horrified by the idea would be an understatement. "Uh uh, no way, nothing doing! NO!" 

"But it would only take a second," Omen cajoled. "Just think--one quick grab, and--" 

_"No way."_

The Clydesdale's benign facade cracked, leaving an expression of supreme irritation. "Look, Booster Whatever, I've been in this pit for _a month and a half_ now and I'm not going to hang around longer because you think a little mousey's gonna jump out and nibble your fingers!" 

"We're not talking about mice, we're talking about _rats!_ Do you know how many diseases those things carry? And you want me to stick my _hand_ near one of them? Gee, why don't I just find some rusty nails to step on while I'm at it!" 

"Well, HERE'S a thought--otherwise you're going to be stuck around the little vermin until your sentence is up--which is _how_ long again?" 

"None of your business! Anyway, I just don't want to reach down some godforsaken hole in the wall and find myself grabbing a handful of nasty, rancid, wiggling fur--" 

"The rat's _dead,_ it died two weeks ago. The stupid thing ran into the hall and Snippy stepped on it." 

"Oh. Well . . . but there could be more . . ." 

"If there are, they're either the quietest rats ever or they're dead too." 

"Huh . . ." Booster thought about which would be worse--reaching into a rathole and finding a live rat or reaching in and finding a dead rat. Then he wondered why he was considering doing either. But . . . he _did_ want to get out. And find Beetle. "Okay, so . . . where is this rathole?" he asked with reluctance. 

In answer, Omen moved to the far corner of the room and pushed away the hay piled against the wall, revealing a triangular gap at the floor, in the area where the two stone walls met. Apparently one of the stone slabs had not been perfectly symmetrical, and the rats had gleefully discovered this chink in the dungeon's armor and used it to access the underbelly of the castle. Booster crouched down and peered into the hole, but could see only darkness. 

"So . . . you think this magic-thingy is in there," Booster said, more for something to say than because he needed confirmation. 

"Yep. It'll feel like a stone. A stone on a leather cord." 

"Um huh." Booster considered whether he should pull his glove off for this project. He really didn't want rats and/or rat droppings encountering his unprotected skin. On the other hand, he didn't want his gloves to get dirty either. After some internal debate, he pulled off his right glove and rolled up his sleeve; it would be easier to wash his hand rather than his suit, which had to be laundered with care to avoid harming the microweave technology built into it. 

"Well, here goes nothing." Booster screwed his eyes shut and stuck his arm into the hole before he could think about it. 

Dampness met his questing hand as he felt around, trying to sort through patches of crinkly, brittle material and the nests of twined, snarled pony-hair, and soft, viscous bits that he was trying hard not to think about. A stone, a stone . . . the only stone he could feel was the solid, flat stone of the floor. But he persevered, sweeping through the rathole again, feeling along the walls at the edge of the hole . . . 

"Got it," he said suddenly. "I think I've got it." His hand closed around the object as he withdrew it. 

"Wonderful!" Omen said, grinning as he examined the object in Booster's (now filthy) hand. It was a stone, all right, covered in mystical carvings. A hole bored through it showed where the leather strap had once passed through it, but the rat had long since gnawed it away. The pony picked it up carefully in his teeth. 

"Ewww, do you know where that thing's _been?"_ Booster said in horror as he did his best to scrape the worst of the dirt and gunk off his arm, perhaps unnecessarily since Omen obviously _did_ know where it had been. "Don't put it in your _mouth!"_

"Desper'te times," the pony shrugged. He leapt over to the barred door so quickly that he skidded as he landed. With barely controlled eagerness, he touched the runestone against the bars--just one, gentle touch. 

The lock clicked softly to itself. An instant later, the door slowly rolled back. 

"Not bad," Booster admitted, stepping into the hallway. 

"Not bad at all," Omen agreed, setting the stone down for an instant, but keeping the rim of one heavy hoof on it, as if to reassure himself that it wasn't about to disappear. "Now then . . . the fastest way out of the dungeon is--" 

"Not so fast. We're not leaving yet. We're going _this_ way." Booster trotted down the hallway and took a right. "We're going to find Beetle." 


	14. Chapter 13: Real Ponies Eat Meat

  


_**Chapter Thirteen**_

  
Their quest to find Blue Beetle would have gone more quickly if the hallway for which Booster so confidently headed had not immediately branched into _two_ hallways, each of which branched into two _more_ hallways, each of which had intersecting corridors leading to--well, anyway, there were a lot of hallways. And it didn't help that Booster kept pausing to try to wipe off his hand, which was still half-encrusted with gunk, on the granite walls that rose between the empty cells. 

"Remember, we have to _keep quiet,"_ Omen hissed, holding his body hunched and low, as if that could possibly hide a huge, snow-white pony in the middle of an empty hall. "Snippy and Crunch Berry will still be down here patrolling, and there are other guards too." 

"Uh huh," Booster said, simultaneously looking around and discovering that whatever that white, sticky . . . _stuff_ . . . was on the palm of his hand, it didn't want to scrape off on the stone. "Quiet. Right. So where do you think they put Beetle?" 

"How should I know? I wasn't exactly invited to stroll through the halls and inspect the cells after they locked me up," Omen said irritably. "It was more like, 'Hey, here you go! Hope you rot here, you little--' . . . What are you doing?" 

"Nothing. I was just, um, admiring your mane. Very nice. Mmm--silky!" Booster smiled brightly, patting Omen's broad white back to disguise the fact that he had, in fact, just been using the pony's purple tresses as an impromptu towel for his gunky hand. Omen gave him a funny look and sidled away a bit. 

"Anyway . . . like I was saying, he could be anywhere," the Clydesdale said. "Frankly, I think we, or at least _I_, should just get out of here. The chances of finding him in here are astronomical--" 

"Omen, Omen, Omen . . ." Booster shook his head with a sad smile on his face. "What are the odds of Beetle and I getting tossed into a land full of pastel, talking ponies? What are the odds that we'd burn down the library?" ("I'm beginning to think they might be pretty good," Omen muttered under his breath.) "What are the odds that I'd get thrown into the one cell that has a magic door-opening-charm-thingy? Don't you get it? The less likely things are, the more inevitable they become!" 

Before Omen could do more than boggle at Booster's logic, the blond superhero suddenly perked up, cocking his head to one side as he heard a faint, familiar voice echoing along the stretching hallway to his left. 

" . . . talk about this . . . calm down . . . can't we all just get along?" 

"Ted!" Booster immediately swiveled and began trotting down the hall. 

"What in all the names of the Rainbow is a _ted?_ Hey, slow down, he could be talking to the guards or--Booster, wait up!" Omen followed, twisting his head this way and that, scanning for trouble. 

Booster ignored him, feeling both relieved and triumphant. _Definitely_ Beetle's voice, and it was coming from . . . 

He rounded the corner at the end of the hall and nearly ran smack into a barred door closing off a fairly large cell with at least nine feet of extra headroom. As Omen had predicted, there was a brick ledge built into the cell, about eight feet off the ground, and on that ledge was perched none other than Blue Beetle. 

He had been simultaneously rubbing the back of his head and staring anxiously down at his cellmate, a light yellow pony with coral hair, but upon seeing the 25th century superhero's abrupt entrance, he turned with an expression of amazement. "Booster!" he exclaimed. "How the heck did you--??" 

"Sorry, my amazing escape techniques are super-secret--_and_ patent pending," Booster grinned, wrapping a hand around the bars. "But if you promise to close your eyes, my assistant and I will have you out of there faster than the Fla--" 

"Look out!" Blue Beetle interrupted, frantically throwing himself off the ledge just in time to tackle a blur of yellow and coral making an uncontrolled leap towards Booster. Booster instinctively backed away, eyes widening as several hundred pounds of pony crashed against the bars on which he had just been leaning. There was a flurry of kicking hooves and gnashing teeth and the next moment Blue Beetle was making a hasty, vaulted retreat back to the ledge as the pale yellow pony paced beneath him, baring her jagged, uneven teeth and growling. 

"What . . . what the . . . ?" Booster stared at the pony in disbelief. Just then Omen finally rounded the corner, having caught up. 

"Oh, _there_ you are," he grumbled. "Okay, let's get your friend and get going before GREAT RAINBOW OF _LIGHT!!!"_ he finished dramatically, violet eyes bulging as the lean, coral-maned pony turned to regard him with a hungry glint. 

"What?" Booster asked, annoyed. "It's just a pony . . . Kind of moth-eaten, maybe, but--" 

"That's _Munchy,"_ Omen said in a soft, awed voice, unable to tear his eyes from the creature slavering away in the cell. (She had turned her attentions back to Blue Beetle, standing on her hind legs, leaning against the wall with her front ones as she stared up at the Azure Avenger.) "She's . . . she's _insane._ Not Skydancer-joking-around insane or Parasol-kicking-people insane . . . _Really, truly insane!_ They say she's carnivorous, a cannibal, and . . . and . . . well, LOOK at her! Look at her _symbols!"_

Booster took a closer look at the pony. While Omen had comets on his flanks, the yellow mare's shoulders and back were covered with images of french fries, pickles, and . . . hamburgers and hot dogs? 

"I don't know about the cannibal part, but I can vouch for 'carnivorous' as an appropriate adjective; she nearly tore a chunk out of me when they tossed me in here," Beetle said, sitting cross-legged and leaning his head into his hand. "Thank God I wasn't still out cold. I _was_ pretty groggy, though . . . Barely made it up here. Snippy was _laughing,"_ he added in irritation. 

"Snippy has issues," Omen said absently, his attention still entirely focused on Munchy. 

"You don't say," Beetle said drily. 

"Well . . . ah . . . Snippy's personality disorder aside . . . Hand me that charm-thing, will you, Omen?" 

"Excuse me? What?" 

"The charm." Booster pointed to the stone hanging around Omen's neck. (Booster had yanked out a few of Omen's purple tail hairs and threaded them through the hole in the center, at the pony's request.) 

"Riiiiight . . . Booster, can I talk to you for a minute? Over here?" 

"Uh . . . I guess. This shouldn't take long," he said to Beetle, apologetic. 

"Hey, it's not like I'm going anywhere," the blue-themed superhero shrugged philosophically as Booster followed Omen down the hall a bit. 

"Well? What gives?" Booster asked a touch impatiently. 

"What gives," Omen smiled, "is that your friend is in a cell with a psychotic, flesh-eating, possibly rabid pony. Now, tell me . . . do you really think that _opening the cell door_, the one thing keeping Munchy from chewing off our faces, is a good idea?" 

"Well, how else are we supposed to get Beetle out?" Booster said with a pragmatic shrug. 

"He seems to be doing pretty well on that ledge, doesn't he? I'm sure he'll be just fine." 

"You think we should just _leave him?"_ Booster straightened, casting a disgusted and disbelieving look at the Clydesdale. 

"Yeah, that was the general idea." 

"No." Booster said flatly. 

"I don't think you're thinking this through, Booster," Omen said, and although his voice was patient, there was a glint in his eye. "I'm not making a _suggestion._ I'm _informing_ you, as a courtesy, that this is not going to happen." 

"Really." 

"Yes, really." 

Booster crossed his arms. "I think you'll find it most definitely _is_ going to happen." 

"Really." 

"Yes, _really."_

"Considering _I_ have the runestone and outweigh you several times over, I'm feeling rather skeptical about that." With a swish of his royal purple tail, Omen turned to leave. 

"If you take one more step," Booster said calmly, "I am going to let out an ear-splitting shriek like you've never heard in your life. And I'm going to keep screaming and shrieking and generally raising a ruckus until the guards show up." 

Omen froze in mid-step, then slowly turned around. "Really." 

"Yes," Booster said serenely. "Really." 

"They'd catch you too." 

"Yep." 

"And you could hardly help your friend when you're in jail." 

"Nope." 

"So it really wouldn't accomplish anything except landing me back in a cell again." 

"That's true," Booster said, then added thoughtfully, "I'm kind of _petty_ that way." 

"Really." 

Booster nodded contentedly. "Really." 

Omen scowled as he tossed his head, flipping the talisman off with a jerk. Booster caught it neatly. 

"Why, thank you, Omen! How very kind of you!" 

"Hardy-har-har. Have fun dealing with your friend's psycho little cellmate," Omen said, turning once more. 

"You're leaving?" Booster raised an eyebrow. 

"I've got to get . . . some stuff . . . before I leave. I'll be back to get the stone . . . off your mangled corpse," he added in an undertone as he stalked away. 

"Pessimist," Booster said, only to himself since Omen was already out of earshot. But as he retraced his steps back to the cell, he did indeed feel a wash of dread and doubt as Munchy turned to inspect him with gleaming, predatory eyes. 

"What's that?" Beetle asked with interest, looking at the runestone dangling from the strands of purple hair twisted around Booster's fingers. He began absent-mindedly drumming one heel against the brick-laid wall of the ledge, but quickly drew his foot back when Munchy swiveled to look up at him and lick her lips. "And, man, what happened to your _arm?_ Did you start rooting through dumpsters or something?" 

"I was just--I'll tell you once we're out of here, okay? Which shouldn't be long now." The Corporate Crusader edged slowly towards the iron door as Munchy followed every sidled step. 

As Booster's small, careful steps finally drew him even with the door, the pale yellow pony raised her head and sniffed the air. "Meeeeat," she hissed in satisfaction. 

Booster's stomach flip-flopped, but he _had_ to get Beetle out of here, so he raised the magical stone-- 

"What's that?" Blue Beetle repeated. "And where's that big white pony?" 

"Omen's getting some stuff and this is--well, just be ready eave-lay ick-quay." Justice Leaguers reduced to pig-latin . . . but if Munchy could talk, even a little, she could probably understand them too. 

"Wait, you mean you can open the--Booster, hey, wait, let's think this through. You're gonna get yourself killed!" Beetle anxiously looked from Booster to Munchy. 

"Killed," Munchy repeated in a barely audible undertone, and she smacked her lips in a particularly disturbing way. 

"Oh, don't _you_ start," Booster said, doing his best to ignore Munchy. "I just went through a lot of work to get this bauble for your behalf, I'll have you know!" 

"Well, okay, that's great and all, but you can't just pop the door when there's a slavering cannibal on the other side of it, y'know?" 

"So if she's a cannibal I should be fine. She'd have to eat other _ponies_ to be a cannibal--" 

"Booster, I don't think she makes much of a distinction between species! Everyone's a walking buffet to her!" 

"You know," Booster huffed, "you're making yourself awfully difficult to rescue." 

"I just don't want you to have to change your name to Captain Dead!" 

"'Captain Dead'?" 

"Deadman is already taken; you don't want to get sued for copyright infringement. Now just let me think of a plan--" 

"So YOU get to think of the plan? AGAIN? I came all this way to rescue you--" 

"You said I was the details guy! I'm working on the details!" 

"What details are there to work on?? I open the door, you come out the door!" 

"And the bloodthirsty, carnivorous pony comes out the door and eats you, Mr. No-Functioning-Tech! That's the snag I'm trying to--" 

"Oh, _I_ get eaten, huh? Why don't YOU get eaten?" 

"Because I'm up here and you're down there, dummy." 

"You think just because my suit's out of order I can't handle one measly pony?" 

"When the pony in question weighs more than both of us combined, has sharp, jaggety teeth, and tried to gnaw my arm off? Yeah, I think that's a pretty good bet." 

"Well, let's just find out, shall we?" Booster hefted the magical stone. 

"Booster, _wait!_ You need a _plan--"_

"Screw the plan, Ted." The futuristic superhero said cooly as he rested the runestone against the lock. "I don't _need_ a plan. I'm Booster Gold." 

_Click click._ The door quietly slid open. 

Munchy merely stood in the middle of the cell, looking Booster up and down as though all her dreams had come true. She approached with slow, savoring steps, sniffing the air with delicately formed nostrils. As a thin strand of drool seeped from her mouth, Booster found himself wondering if a plan wouldn't have been a good idea after all. 

But she was just a pony, he quickly reminded himself, and he _was_ Booster Gold. If he was more than a suit and a flight ring, this was the time to prove it. 

"Hello there . . . Munchy, right?" Booster kept his voice casual and relaxed. "Hello, Munchy." 

Munchy cocked her head, looking at him. 

"We haven't really been introduced yet, have we? My name's Booster. Booster Gold." 

"G . . . old?" 

"That's right." 

"C . . . old?" 

"Ah, not _quite--"_

"C . . . old cuts?" Munchy leaned forward with some eagerness. 

"No." Booster's voice was firm. "Definitely _not."_

Unconvinced, Munchy slowly stepped closer. Booster caught a flash of sharp-edged, broken teeth as she opened her mouth to lick away a string of drool. 

Booster did his best to ignore it as he smiled. "I'll bet you've been in there a long time, huh? Bet you can't wait to get out of this place."

"After . . . supper . . ."

"Ah. Supper. Yes. You know, Munchy, I'm sure that as soon as Omen gets back, he can find you, um, lunch meat or chicken or whatever you want--"

"Want _you."_

"Boy, do I hear _that_ a lot--although not usually in this context . . . Hey, calm down now!" He dodged as Munchy aimed a tentative nip at his arm. "You don't want to eat _me."_

Munchy considered. "Do too."

"No. No, you really don't." Booster put on his most sincere smile, the one that had landed him the Nike commercials. "Munchy, listen--most ponies don't eat meat, right? I mean, you're kind of unique that way, am I correct?"

The yellow pony blinked. "Y . . . es."

"So it's probably pretty hard for you to find stuff to eat, right? And you always have to gulp it down really fast so no one catches you, right?"

"Yes . . ."

"Well, get this: humans eat meat _all the time!_ We can waltz into any old store and buy a leg of this or a loin of that. _And_ we've got tons of different ways to prepare it!"

Munchy's ears perked up. "Oh?"

"Right. So if we can just get out of here, we can show you all kinds of great _con carne_ dishes!" Actually, boiling an egg was about the extent of Booster's culinary talent, but this was no time to be truthful. "So why don't you just let me and Blue Beetle get out of here--"

"But . . ." Munchy frowned. "Hungry NOW. And you're . . . meat."

"Well, sure, but what happens if you eat us?" ("Us??" Blue Beetle protested from his perch.) "You'll just be hungry again in a few hours. Whereas we might be able to set you up with a permanent food source if we're, y'know, alive."

"Well . . ." Munchy thought about it. "'Kay."

"That's a good cannibalistic pony!" Booster patted her on the back, gingerly because she smelled vaguely of rotten meat. He couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and mouthing, "I am the champion!", to which Blue Beetle responded with noiseless, exagerrated lip-syncing, "You're INSANE!" 

"C'mon down, Ted," Booster said cheerfully, ignoring his friend's assessment of his mental health. 

Beetle cast a suspicious look at Munchy through his goggles, but nevertheless leapt down, landing gracefully on his feet.

"Well . . . what now?" Blue Beetle wanted to know, still eyeing the yellow pony. Munchy was drooling a little, but in a passive, absent-minded way.

"We should get out of here, I guess," Booster shrugged. "Hey, Omen never came back! I hope he didn't get caught . . ."

"He was that big white pony, right? Where'd he run off to?"

"I dunno. He said he was going to grab some of his stuff."

"Well, _that's_ specific. What kind of stuff? And where?"

"Beats me. Maybe they have an evidence vault or something around here someplace."

"Well, I'd rather not sit around here waiting for him."

"Yeah, but I don't know where he went exactly--"

Munchy looked from one superhero to the other. "I know."

They both turned towards her.

"What do you know?" Booster asked.

"Where he went."

"You _do?"_

"Can smell him." She inhaled deeply, letting her breath out with a contented sigh. "He went . . . that way."

"Oh . . ." Booster and Beetle exchanged glances.

"Well, why not?" Beetle shrugged. "I mean, he did help you escape, right?"

"Yeah, more or less." Booster looked at the meat-covered pony. "Lead the way, Munchy."

"Mmm." Munchy nodded and put her nose to the floor, snuffling as she stalked down down the stone hallway.

"Speaking of escapes," Beetle said after a minute, "thanks for the save, bud."

Booster grinned. "Hey, what are friends for if not to stave off half-crazed, carnivorous ponies covered with pictures of hot dogs and hamburgers?"

"You know, when you put it like that . . ."

"Yeah?"

"It sounds kind of stupid."

Booster Gold tilted his head. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it? But hey, is it really any worse than the Flash fighting a guy in a blue and white snowsuit?"

"Captain Cold?"

"Yeah. And Captain Boomerang. Man, where do you think he found a boomerang print for his tunic?"

"This is kind of an urban legend, but . . . have you heard of the Tailor?"

"The Tailor? No . . ."

"He's supposedly this guy who all the supervillains go to for their costumes."

"You're kidding. Are you kidding?"

"No, I swear I'm not! Whenever their costumes get shredded or torn up or they want a new outfit, they go to the Tailor!"

"Huh." Booster considered. "Why do they wear costumes at all?"

"Well, they probably don't want to get arrested for indecent exposure on top of everything else . . ."

"No, no!" Booster waved away Beetle's comment. "I meant . . . why don't they wear normal clothes? Wouldn't it be easier to take over the world or whatever if people didn't instantly point at you and say, 'Hey, that guy in the big purple cape and the moose-horned mask is Dr. Polaris!' the minute you showed up?" 

"Moose-horned?"

"Well, it reminds _me_ of moose horns. Anyway, the point stands. Why wear a costume and draw attention to yourself?"

"But _we_ wear costumes and draw attention to ourselves."

"Ah, but we're _heroes,_ Beetle. We have the adulation of the adoring masses. If we were villains, people would probably just . . . spit at us or something."

"That doesn't sound very sanitary."

"Like this place."

They silently glanced around the narrow corridor as they listened to Munchy's hoofsteps echoing. 

"It's not _so_ bad. For a dungeon, I mean," Blue Beetle said at last.

"There are rats down here," Booster said darkly.

("Rats," Munchy agreed in a contented undertone, licking her lips.)

"Wharf rats?" Beetle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Ted."

"Hey, just checking!"

Booster opened his mouth to reply, then closed his jaw with a click as he and Beetle stared at each other in dismay. Ahead of them the corridor broke into a T-junction, and from that direction came the unmistakable clatter of hooves . . .

  



	15. Chapter 14: Down the Rabbit Hole

  


** _Chapter Fourteen_ **

  
The heroes had just started to back down the hallway when Omen rounded the corner so suddenly that he almost ran into them. It was hard to say who was most surprised by this turn of events. 

Booster recovered while Omen was still slack-jawed and said, "So _there_ you are. Come on, Omen, this is no time to stand around gaping. We've got to get _out_ of here!" 

The stallion's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words were forthcoming. 

"What's wrong?" Beetle asked, turning to take a quick glance at the corridor behind him. But it was empty aside from the two humans and . . . 

"M-M-Munchy!" Omen gasped. 

. . . yeah, her. 

"Mmmm . . ." The yellow pony licked her lips as she looked Omen up and down. "Yummy . . ." 

Under normal circumstances, Omen would not have objected to a mare making such comments about him. As it was, his face blanched to an even paler shade of white, if such a thing was possible, as Munchy advanced in her equine equivalent of a predatory slink. But she hadn't quite reached Omen when she met with some resistance. 

"Hey, stop, don't eat Omen! BAD Munchy!!! BAD pony!!!" 

Munchy looked around to find Booster tightly gripping her tail as he braced his feet against the stone floor. "Hungry," she told him. "Meat." 

Head still turned, she experimentally took another step, with more effort than would normally be required, and watched Booster's treadless boots slide forward several inches. 

"NO!! BAD!!" Booster stubbornly clung to her tail as Blue Beetle stared with an expression that clearly showed he thought his friend had lost his mind. 

"But . . . meat . . ." Munchy protested. 

"NO," he repeated firmly. "No eating Omen, he's going to help us escape! Right?" He looked at the white pony. 

"Yeah, okay, sure, whatever you want, I know lots of ways to escape," Omen babbled, pressing himself against the far wall. "Escape. Yes. Definitely." 

"You see?" Booster finally let go of the meat-symboled pony's coral tresses and miraculously she simply scowled at the floor instead of lunging at Omen. "He's helping us. Now apologize." 

"But . . ." Munchy stared hungrily at the Clydesdale. 

"APOLOGIZE!" 

Munchy grumbled out something that sounded like "Sorry you smell so tasty" in Omen's general direction. Booster, deciding it was best not to press the matter, patted the mare's back while simultaneously giving the Clydesdale an encouraging smile. 

"Eh heh . . . heh . . . heh," Omen managed as he returned a sickly grin. "Let's . . . let's get out of here, shall we? As . . . as quickly as possible." 

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Beetle grinned. Booster nodded in agreement. 

With one last, nervous glance at the hot dog decorated pony, Omen moved with surprising swiftness and silence through the labryinth of corridors. The humans trotted to keep up with his long strides. Munchy brought up the rear, still sulking slightly. 

"You know . . ." Beetle glanced over his shoulder. "I would never have thought you'd have such rapport with homicidal ponies." 

"Oh, you just have to know how to talk to them," Booster said easily. 

"And how's that?" 

"Very carefully." 

Blue Beetle rolled his eyes. "The man thinks he's a comedian . . ." 

"Hey, can I help it if I'm so hilariously funny?" 

"We're all going to be hilariously back in a cell if you two don't shut up," Omen hissed at them in a low voice. "There are still guards on patrol down here, you know." 

"Autograph seekers, no doubt," Blue Beetle murmured, but both he and Booster quieted down as they followed Omen. 

Before long, the Clydesdale led them down a dark, dead end corridor with a metal grate propped open at the end by a rough-hewn piece of wood. 

"There are service passages like this threaded all through the castle," Omen explained, gesturing towards the dark opening with a shaggy white hoof. "They were originally used by the servants of Dream Castle, the grundles, but later they shut most of them up . . . Anyway, we _should_ be able to get out through them if you two can keep your great big mouths shut. Oh, and make sure Munchy goes _last_, please." 

"Our 'great big mouths'?" Beetle said aloud as he watched Omen's tail disappear into the passageway. 

"That sounded like an insult to me," Booster said. "I think we've been insulted." 

"Just like being at home. Well, nothing to do but follow, I guess . . ." Beetle ducked into the stone passage. Booster thought briefly of rats, wharf or otherwise, before shoving aside his misgivings and following suit. Munchy brought up the rear. 

They proceeded slowly, as the passageway was small enough that Omen had to crawl in on his belly, with his legs stretched before and behind him and his head pulled low. The two humans walked, albeit in an uncomfortable, hunched over stance, and Munchy slunk along with low, predatory strides behind them. 

Their path sloped upwards, at first running along the edge of the expansive dungeons and then finally edging towards the main part of the castle, with various little corridors breaking off the one they were traversing, leading to various parts of the building. 

The only light broke through rusty wrought-iron grilles occasionally set high in the walls of the passage. They eyed those with a mixture of relief at the illumination and fear that some pony would see them passing and raise the alarm. But fortunately the grundles' passway seemed to be built between the floors of the castle, so the that the small openings were only level with the hooves of any ponies who might be in a room adjacent to them. 

"Beetle?" Booster whispered at one point. "What's a grundle?" 

"I don't know," Blue Beetle returned in the same soft tone. After a minute's thought, he added, "I think it might be a kind of bed." 

"Trundle. A _trundle_ bed," Booster corrected. 

"Shut up," Omen hissed ahead of them. "Before I put you on your _death_bed." 

A brief moment of silence, then: "That wasn't a very good pun, Omen." 

"The main problem was his delivery, if you ask me. You've gotta build up a little momentum near the end or there's no _kick."_

_"Someone's_ gonna get a kick, all right . . ." the Clydesdale mumbled under his breath. 

"See? That was much better," Beetle said encouragingly. 

Omen didn't respond, but his purple tail gave an irritated swish. They continued on in silence for perhaps a hundred feet before Booster started up again. 

"My back is killing me," he complained. "Majesty is gonna owe me big time if I have to go to a chiropractor." 

"I know what you mean," Beetle said. "God, I never realized before how nice it is to be able to stand and stretch and just . . . _stand."_

"Thanks a lot, Ted. You're making me think about it and that just makes it WORSE." 

_"You_ brought it up." 

"At least neither of you has to _crawl,"_ grumbled Omen. "I feel like a rabbit in a hole." 

"Give Alice all my best." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't _care_ what you're talking about." 

"How are you doing, Munchy?" No response. "Ah . . . Munchy?" Booster paused, perching on his heels, and turned around. "Uh, guys? We lost Munchy." 

"You don't see her back there?" asked Omen, who was squashed up against the walls far too tightly to turn around. 

"No." 

"Not at all?" 

"No." 

"Not anywhere?" 

"No." 

"Thank the Rainbow! Quick, let's get out of her before she finds us again!" The Clydesdale's hooves scraped against the stones as he picked up his pace. 

"You're just going to _leave_ her in here?" 

"Three guesses, Buster." 

"That's _Booster."_ He sounded disgruntled as he trailed after Omen and Blue Beetle. "I dunno . . . Is that really ethical, giving her the slip like that?" 

"Leaving a cannibal behind is unethical?" 

"You know, he _does_ have a point, Booster. Munchy was drooling on my ankles for a while there." 

"But what if she starves?" the blond superhero persisted. 

"Awwwww. My heart _bleeds."_ They couldn't see his face, but Omen's backside definitely had a sarcastic look to it. 

"She can always live off the rats," Beetle suggested. "No, seriously," he added when Booster gave him a dirty look. "Anyway, what are the odds that we _can_ find her again? This place is a maze." 

"Serves her right for wandering off," Omen said with an unsympathetic snort. 

Booster didn't respond, but he kept lagging behind and glancing over his shoulder as the continued down the tunnel. "I'll catch up in a minute," he said at last, turning. 

"Aw, Booster, don't--Booster, come _back!"_ Blue Beetle sighed as he watched his friend give him a reassuring wave that conveyed that there was no reason to be concerned as he disappeared around a corner. "At least drop a trail of bread crumbs or something . . ." 

"He went back, didn't he?" demanded Omen, who still didn't have enough room to look behind him. "He went back to find the damn psychopath." 

"Yeah, a little bit," Blue Beetle admitted. 

"And _why_ is he doing this, may I ask?" 

"Well, you know . . . the heroic ideal and all that. We let her out, so she's our responsibility, right?" 

_"I_ didn't let her out." 

"But you're not the one looking for her either, so there you go," Beetle pointed out. "And besides that . . ." 

"Yes?" 

"Well . . . Booster's never had a pet . . ." 

Pause. "You're kidding." 

"Hey, it could be worse." 

_"How?"_

Beetle hesitated, tilting his head in thought before replying. "At least we didn't bring Animal Man along . . ." 


	16. Chapter 15: Of Riches and Ribbons

  


_**Chapter Fifteen**_

  
"He had to mention _standing_ and _stretching_, didn't he?" Booster sighed in a martyred tone as he moved along in his awkward, hunched-over stance, trying to ignore the aching of his back. "Beetle, Beetle, Beetle . . . Well, let's see here . . ." 

He peered down the various side-passages, not quite daring to call out knowing that the bustle of pony life proceeded outside the grates and grilles. No yellow and coral pony. Nothing. 

Omen was probably right; he shouldn't even bother. But Booster didn't like the idea of anyone, even a deranged flesh-eating pony, being trapped in the labyrinth of narrow, winding passages with only the rats for company. Not that there were rats. 

"Anyway," he said, casting all thoughts of rodents from his mind, "I have a heroic ideal to uphold." Although the public loved him, Booster Gold sometimes caught flak from his fellow heroes--okay, _some_ of his fellow heroes--okay, _Superman,_ mostly--for his high-profile celebrity lifestyle and his merchandising schemes. Booster didn't understand what their problem was. It wasn't like he charged people to be rescued or anything . . . and was it so _wrong_ to try to earn a little cash on the side? Or a lot of cash, for that matter? He didn't have a secret identity to fall back on and he had to make a living _somehow._

"Anyway , _Stupor_man is just jealous," Booster reasoned, "I'm younger, wealthier (well, _probably_ . . . it's not like I know his average yearly income), and--let's face it--a _lot_ more attractive. Plus none of _my_ villainous foes are called Mxy-whatever." 

He paused. 

"Not that I have that many villainous foes." 

Pause. 

"But I'm working on it." 

As the Corporate Crusader began mulling over ways to expand his rogues gallery (because everyone knows a hero is only as good as his rogues), a smell wafted through the passageway around him. Actually it would be more accurate to describe it as a _stench_ rather than a mere smell and the appropriate verb was probably closer to assaulted rather than wafted. In any case, Booster Gold wrinkled his nose as an overpowering odor of rotting meat (mixed with the _slightest_ hint of mildew) hung in the air. 

Munchy was _definitely_ in the general vicinity. 

Booster peered down a side-passage where the scent seemed to intensify; he carefully edged into it. "Munchy?" 

Farther down, where the corridor turned sharply, faint but definite rays of light played against the walls, lit by some unseen source further along. Raising an eyebrow, Booster headed down to investigate. "Munchy? Are you--YEEEEARRRGH!!" 

The last remark was due to the fact that, as he turned the corner, he stumbled straight through a gaping hole in the floor and into the room below. "Ow ow ow!" he yelped as he bounced head over heels down a steep, shifting slope of uncomfortably hard objects. He landed with a solid thump.

"Ohhhhhh man . . ." Eyes closed, he put a hand to his head.

Suddenly, he felt a blast of hot and really bad breath wash over his face. "Boos-ter?"

He opened one blue eye and found a pointy-eared siloquette hovering above him. "I don't suppose you're Batman, here to tell me this is all a dream, are you?"

"No," the pony replied in obvious confusion. "Munchy!"

"That's pretty much what I thought." Booster sat up with a sigh of suppressed irritation. "Well, Munchy, while you're jaunting around down here, everyone else is getting all impatient. So what do you say we rejoin them and make tracks? I mean, what's down here that's so inter . . . esting . . . anyway . . . oh . . . my . . . _God."_ Booster got his first good look at his surroundings and gaped.

_"Sparklies!"_ Munchy said cheerfully, gesturing widely with a hoof.

"Sparklies," Booster repeated faintly, dazzled by the glinting sea of gold coins surrounding him, rolling away to the far corners of the massive room. 

And not _just_ coins either (although that was mainly what the shifting mountain beneath him seemed to be comprised of) but also piles of gemstones sparkling like bits of rainbow; long rolled lengths of tapestries leaning against the walls, their backs displaying threads of gold and silver; chests of dark, heavy wood, half-buried in the coins; and jewelry, pony-sized necklaces and bracelets and tiaras and crowns, all displaying flashing gems set in incricately smithed masterpieces of precious metal. Everything shimmered and gleamed under a soft golden light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. 

Booster stood up, nearly slipping on the slick coins as he turned in a full circle, gazing at the riches surrounding him. Only one remark could do the scene justice. "OooOOOOOooo!"

"Pretty!" Munchy grinned with her discomforting smile, sitting on her haunches.

_"Extremely_ pretty," Booster agreed, half-walking, half-sliding down the pile of coins to examine the rest of the room. "What _is_ this place? Gotta be the treasure vault, huh?"

"Dunno. Came through the ceiling," Munchy said, not sounding particularly interested in how she had arrived. "Thought maybe . . . meat in here . . ." 

As she started snuffling around a tapestry, Booster Gold began investigating, poking around and pausing to run his hands through the coins whenever he felt like it, which was often. It felt good, the cool bits of metal sliding through his hands, and they made a pleasant sound besides. The ancient, metal-bound chests caught his attention too. None of them were locked, and each one was filled with something different--sapphires or tarnished silver goblets or silk-cut formal wear for ponies or (presumably) elves. Munchy was disappointed to find that none of them held meat.

After about twenty minutes of giddy exploration, Booster sighed, "We really should catch up with Ted and Omen . . ." He reluctantly creaked shut the heavy lid of the chest he had been examining, which held silver frames with jewels set in them, making them resemble butterflies. He turned to examine the hole in the ceiling through which he had initially tumbled. The small, hidden passageway ran above the room, but the floor had fallen right through. 

"No, it didn't _fall_ through . . . it looks more like something punched through it," he corrected himself, moving closer. The gap in the grundle-corridor (and he STILL didn't know what a grundle was!) occured just at the edge of the wall of the treasure vault. The pile of gold coins beneath it formed a makeshift ramp almost to the top corner of the room, although there were trenches in the gold from where Booster had slid down.

"But it shouldn't be _too_ hard to get back up," he murmured. "And the hole's big enough that Munchy _should_ be able to get through . . . Hey, where _is_ Munchy, anyway? Munchy?"

"Boos-ter! Found something!" came an excited exclamation from behind several stacks of gold and silver.

He trotted towards the voice and found Munchy sitting on her haunches with her front legs hooked over the rim of an open chest.

"Let me guess . . . it's a chest of beef jerky."

"Nuh-uh," the yellow pony said. "RIBBONS!" She plunged her head into the chest and popped back up with a mouth full of ribbons. Satin ribbons, lace ribbons, ribbons with gold trimming . . . quite a variety, and in all colors of the rainbow.

"Wow, that's great," Booster said politely. "Munchy, you remember Omen? And my friend Blue Beetle? We're going to go find them now--"

"Ribbons," Munchy repeated with her mouth full. One blue ribbon trailed over her face, caught behind her ear.

"Yes, I see the ribbons."

"Ribbons." 

"Yes, the ribbons are nice."

"Pretty."

"Yes, very. Put them back now, okay?"

"Wanna ribbon."

"Munchy, we really have to get going--"

"Wanna ribbon!!"

"Hey, not so _loud!_ There could be guards out there, y'know!" Booster anxiously looked towards the massive oak doors at one end of the chamber. "We don't know this place is soundproof, and--"

"MUNCHY WANTS A RIBBON!!!!"

"Shhhhhhh! Be quiet, you stupid--Okay, okay, pick out a ribbon and let's get out of here! Sheesh!" Booster threw his hands in the air as he rolled his eyes.

Munchy cocked her head in thought, then carefully selected an eye-jarringly orange ribbon. 

_"That_ one?" Truly there was no accounting for taste, Booster reflected. "Okay, now that you've got it, let's go and--"

"Tie."

"What?"

"Booster ties ribbon." Munchy looked at him expectantly.

"Can't it wait until--?"

"No! Tie ribbon! Tie ribbon in Munchy's mane!!"

"Oh grife . . . okay, give it here. And stop talking about yourself in the third person all the time; you sound like a supervillain or something," he said crossly as he grabbed the ribbon away from her.

"Su-per-vill-ain?"

"Stupid, nasty people me and Beetle get to beat up," he clarified as he pulled the blue ribbon off of her ear.

"Beat up and . . . eat? Yummy supervillains?"

"Ewww, _no."_

"Why?"

"Because . . . because we don't know where they've _been_, all right? Now hold still." He wrinkled his nose as he tried to untangle her tresses enough to slip the ribbon around them. Munchy had not bathed in some time, judging by the slick, greasy texture of her hair. "Grife, this is disgusting," he muttered as he deftly looped the satin material.

"What?"

"I said . . . this ribbon needs a little adjusting." He gave it a final tug and stepped back to regard the somewhat lopsided bow that was now tied about a third of the way down Munchy's mane. "Okay, all done. Come on now, we'll go back and--"

"Wanna 'nother ribbon."

"What? No! We're _leaving_ and that's that!" 

He grabbed a handful of her mane and tried to pull her, but she braced her hooves. "NO!!! 'NOTHER RIBBON!! MUNCHY WANTS ANOTHER RIBBON!!!!"

_"Shhhhhhhhh!!!"_ Booster let go, gesturing frantically for her to be quiet as he cast a cringing glance towards the vault's door. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought he could hear faint, confused conversation seeping through it.

"Munchy wants another ribbon," the pale yellow pony said quietly, tossing her head to make her mane bounce. "She wants it NOW."

"I'm in hell. I've died and gone to hell, it's the only explanation. And I don't even _believe_ in hell. This is so unfair." Booster slumped against the wall.

"Munchy wants--" The pale yellow pony persisted stubbornly.

"I know, I know, she wants a ribbon. Okay, all right, you win. But we're going to make this _fast_ and then we're getting out of here, _okay?"_

Munchy seemed to consider. "'Kay!" 

"Okay. And I thought you were going to try to stop talking in the third person?"

"Third per-son?"

"When you talk like . . . like you're someone else. Talking about you." When the pony gave him a confused look, he said, "Shoot . . . it would be like if I said 'Booster wants this' or 'Booster wants that' instead of _'I_ want'. When you do that . . . well, it makes you sound crazy."

"Oh." She dropped a green ribbon with sparkly trimming at Booster's feet as she digested this new knowledge. 

"So . . . instead of saying 'Munchy wants a ribbon'--" He prompted her with a look as he gathered up the gold-trimmed ribbon.

Munchy considered. "I Munchy wanna ribbon."

"Well . . . close enough." Booster tied it in a rather hasty knot around her forelock. It looked . . . well, it looked really strange. But probably not much stranger than a pony covered with hamburgers was anyway. "All right . . . there you go. Nice ribbons. Yay. I think you have enough pretty ribbons in your mane now, don't you?"

He awaited the answer with dread, but was pleasantly surprised with Munchy nodded in agreement. "Enough ribbons in mane."

_"Great!"_ He began trotting towards the hole in the ceiling. "So follow me and we'll--"

"Boos-ter?"

He turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow behind his goggles. "Ye-essss?"

Munchy smiled hopefully as she plucked up a curling length of white ribbon. "No ribbons in tail yet!"

  



	17. Chapter 16: Reunions

  


_**Chapter Sixteen**_

  
By the time Booster Gold finally managed to drag Munchy towards their avenue of exit, the chest was empty, his fingers were numb, and Munchy was liberally draped in ribbons. Ribbons tied in her tail; ribbons tied in her mane (because she had decided that two were not enough after all); ribbons tied up and down her legs after Booster had finally run out of room in her hair. The superhero maintained a shellshocked silence as Munchy pranced and strutted her way over to the pile of coins sloping up to the ceiling. 

"Munchy has ribbons," she said, giving her head a toss that would have made her greasy, snarled mane bounce had it not been weighed down by the sheer amount of her finery. 

"Um-huh." 

"Pretty ribbons!" She blew a curl of blue ribbon out of her eyes. 

"Mm." 

She looked sideways at Booster as he hiked up the glittering mountain of wealth with mechanical motions. 

"Booster want a ribbon?" Munchy ventured. 

He turned wearily, regarded her with glazed eyes, and slowly shook his head. 

"Oh." She struggled up the coins with some difficulty, her hooves sinking into the shifting bits of metal with each step. "Well . . ." She eyed the gaping hole in the ceiling. Even with the coins piled up to it, it was several feet above her head, due to the fact that both she and Booster had sent the toy layer of coins rolling and scattering upon their respective arrivals. Before Booster could suggest that they shove the gold back into place, Munchy pranced in place for a moment as if warming up, then leapt wildly at the dark corridor looming above. 

She made it. Well, sort of. 

"Boos-ter?" 

The human sighed as he regarded Munchy, or at least the half of Munchy that was visible at the moment. "Yes?" 

There was a brief scrabbling sound even as Munchy's hind legs flailed in an unsuccessful attempt to find a purchase. "Munchy is . . . stuck?" 

"Yeah, that's about what I figured," he said. He watched for a few seconds. "I suppose you want a hand." 

"Don't need a hand, need help . . ." 

"And they say _I_ don't get idioms," he muttered. "Well, hang on a sec and--" He tried to shove her hooves upward, to support her hind legs enough for her to pull herself into the passageway. "I . . . oof . . . don't think this is _working._ Maybe if you--OWWW!! MUNCHY!!" Booster's knees nearly buckled as Munchy unexpectedly planted her hind hooves on his shoulderblades. He struggled to straighten, which only increased the pressure on his spine. 

"No worry, Booster, this much better," Munchy assured, her voice echoing hollowly. 

"No it's NOT much better! Munchy, you're crushing my collarbone!" 

"I Munchy get you 'nother soon as I Munchy find some meat . . ." 

"NO! It doesn't WORK that way! Just come down from there and--" The underside of a large hoof, yellow through a thick layer of dirt--he HOPED it was only dirt--suddenly filled his vision . . . then blackness dotted with reeling stars. "Gaaaah! Munchy, that was my FACE!" 

"Oops." 

"Oops?? Oops?? Ow! Ow ow ow!! Stop it!! Stop trying to use my head as a stepping stone!!" 

"Sorry . . ." 

"Oh, you're sorry! Great! I feel so much better." He tried to duck out from under her hooves. Unsuccessfully. 

_"Boo_s-ter! You making Munchy SLIP! Now I Munchy can't--oh!" 

The exclamation of surprise disintegrated into an angry caterwaul even as Booster felt the pressure on his shoulders lighten. Relieved, he straightened, shoving Munchy's hooves upward as she scrambled gracelessly into the dimly lit corridor. She didn't sound happy about it, though. 

"You hurt Munchy!!! BAD BAD tasty HUMAN!!!" 

"Wha--?" Booster stared upwards in confusion, then jumped high enough to catch the edge of the hole and pull himself up. "What are you talking--? Oh." He brightened as he saw the familiar blue cowl of Beetle, who was currently scrambling away from a snarling Munchy. "Hey Beetle, what's up?" 

"Oh, you know . . . being terrorized by a meat-eating pony. Same ol', same ol'." Beetle dodged a quick snap of Munchy's jaw. "Y'know Booster, ol' buddy, ol' pal, if you were thinking of working that 25th century charm on our four-legged friend here, you might want to do it _before_ I lose a limb." 

Blue Beetle had a point. "Munchy, what are you doing? Hey, no, you can't eat Beetle!" 

"HE HURT MUNCHY!!!!" 

"I _didn't!_ I saw her stuck halfway in and halfway out and I helped pull her up here!" 

"YOU PULL MUNCHY'S HAIR!!!" 

"Oh Beetle, you didn't." 

"Give me a break! What else was I supposed to get hold of? Her legs are too big around and I didn't think she appreciate me grabbing her ears!" 

"YOU . . . YOU . . ." Munchy's voice suddenly became a low, ominous growl. "You _unarrange_ Munchy's ribbons. You know what happens when you unarrange Munchy's ribbons? _Very . . . bad . . . things."_

"I never knew a situation could be so utterly frightening, yet completely embarrassing at the same time," Beetle muttered as he backed away from the snarling pony and glanced around trying to think of an effective way to fight in the cramped quarters. But before he could even offer a bad pun, Munchy jerked to an abrupt stop. Both Blue Beetle and Munchy blinked in surprise. The pony turned to find a stern-faced Booster firmly gripping her tail. 

"Now you stop that RIGHT NOW! You do NOT terrorize my best friend, got that?" 

"Booos-ter, you messing up I Munchy's tail ribbons," Munchy protested in a kind of whine. 

"And who spent HOURS of time tying them there to begin with?" Booster demanded, then nodded in satisfaction when Munchy pouted and pawed at the floor. "That's _right._ Now stop bothering Beetle." 

"But he pulled--" 

"He pulled you up _here_, where you wanted to be in the _first_ place!" 

"But Munchy's HAIR--" 

"Is just fine. So lay off." 

"No!" Munchy stamped a hoof in defiance. "You promise Munchy good meat and you STILL not give her I any and Beetle Blue smells TASTY!" 

("That's Blue _Beetle,"_ the Azure Avenger corrected as the other two studiously ignored him.) 

"We haven't been able to get you any food yet because you just spent I-don't-know-how-long rooting through the treasure vault!" 

"Munchy doesn't care! Munchy is hungry, and blue-looking elf is meat, and--" 

Booster let go of Munchy's tail, but only to cross his arms. "If you lay one hoof or tooth or--or anything--on Beetle . . . who is NOT, for your information, an elf . . . then I am going to make you put every last one of those ribbons back." 

Munchy eyed him suspiciously. "Booster wouldn't." 

"Booster would," Blue Beetle said helpfully. 

"Yeah, Booster--I mean,_ I_--would." 

"Munchy not leave ribbons!" the pony said defiantly, flicking her tail away from the blond superhero. 

"If I pull them out of your hair, you won't be able to tie them in again," Booster pointed out. 

"Let's hear it for opposable thumbs," Beetle added as an expression of horrorified comprehension dawned over Munchy's face. 

She swung her head between Booster and Blue Beetle, obviously engaged in an inner struggle, before lowering her head and sulkily muttering, "Munchy will leave Beetle alone." 

"Good." 

But she added in a heartfelt whine, "But Munchy is HUUUUNGRY!" 

"Well . . . uh . . ." 

"I think Omen found some food," Beetle said. 

Munchy paused. "Meat?" 

"Yep. Why don't you see if you can track him down?" 

"Munchy find big hairy pony!" She clopped away a few paces, sniffing the air. 

"Omen didn't really find anything to eat, did he?" Booster murmured, drifting closer to Blue Beetle. 

"I don't even know where Omen _is,"_ Beetle returned in an undertone. "Theorectically he could have unloaded the entire kitchen by now, but I wouldn't count on it." 

"You lost Omen?" 

"I didn't _lose_ him, he got tired of waiting and _left._ Where _were_ you, anyway?" Beetle asked accusingly. 

"There was the treasure vault and these ribbons and . . . Don't ask." 

"Yeah, I was about to ask about the ribbons . . . You know, the way you get her to listen you is . . . is . . ." 

"Impressive?" Booster suggested hopefully. 

"I think 'eerie' was the word I was searching for, actually." 

Booster scowled, then sulked. When Beetle didn't seem to notice, he gave it up and watched Munchy snuffling around the narrow hallway in silence. 

By that time Blue Beetle had given up standing in the hunchbacked manner necessitated by the low ceiling and contented himself with sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. "So that was a treasure vault down there?" he asked with interest, glancing back. "Do you think--" 

But whatever Beetle wanted Booster's opinion on would have to wait, as both Blue and Gold froze at the sound of a shocked bellow behind them echoing up the corridor: "The vault! The ceiling! INTRUDERS!!!" 

* * *

Omen was admiring himself in the mirror of the quiet, rich West Tower room, smugly congratulating himself on having successfully shaken off all extraneous humans and cannibals, when the human known as Blue Beetle burst in through the vents, followed by Booster Gold, followed by--he thought it was Munchy, but it was hard to tell through all the ribbons. But he became certain when the pony in question, after stretching and shaking a hind hoof (as though banishing the memory of the cramped tunnel), looked directly at him and loudly smacked her lips. 

"Not now, Munchy! Omen, we've got to get out of here!" Booster gasped. Both humans seemed somewhat out of breath. 

"Shades below, what do you want from me? Why are you _following_ me?" Omen demanded, clapping a hairy hoof over his nose in a gesture of dismay. 

"Munchy sniffed you out. You've got to help us escape," Beetle said. 

"Hmmm . . ." Omen cocked his head to one side, then walked around Blue Beetle, observing him with exaggerated deliberation. "No bars . . . no chains . . . Gee, it almost looks like you HAVE escaped!" 

"You don't get it! They know we're here! I mean, they don't know we're _here_ here, but they know we're here in the castle and they know we used those little passages to get here (even if they don't know where here is.) We've got to get out of here!!" 

"Booster's right; they've got a posse sweeping through the castle and they sound _pissed._ They're kicking in the entrances to the grundle tunnels whenever they find them." 

Omen groaned and slapped his hoof over his face again. He enjoyed daring-do escapes, but only when _he_ scheduled them. None of this impromtu stuff. "You've got to be _kidding_ me! How did they find you??" 

"It was Booster's fault." 

"It WASN'T my fault! They would've noticed the stupid hole punched in the vault whether I was there or not! So nyah!" 

"Not Booster's fault," Munchy agreed. "Boo-ster? Ribbons?" 

"I don't--I can't--there _aren't_ any more ribbons, Munchy, that was _it."_ Booster's hands twitched painfully at the memory. 

Munchy pouted for a minute, then eyed Omen hopefully. "Lunch?" 

"Later, okay?" 

"Oh great, bring the whole castle after us why don't you?" Omen grumbled, ducking under the straps of the bulging saddlebags piled on the floor and wiggling so that they settled into place across his back. His back sagged under the weight and for a minute he regretted having stuffed so much into them, but it was too late to repack now. 

"I think you forgot the kitchen sink," the human in blue inexplicably said. Omen ignored him as he staggered back a few steps, then lost his balance and sidestepped into the wall. 

"So . . . a plan?" Booster prompted, looking from Beetle to Omen. 

"We need to get out of the castle," said Blue Beetle, who seemed to have a real knack for stating the obvious. "Ah . . . Omen? Help on that front?" 

"After you toppled into the treasure vault, gadded around covering Munchy in _ribbons_ (I can't wait to hear the reasoning behind THAT), and made sure a mob formed to hunt us down, you want me to help you?" Omen asked incredulously. (He knew he was being a little unfair, blaming the mob on them--Booster was right, they would have noticed sooner or later--but the thought of Tex and Slugger and, Rainbow help him, PARASOL hunting him through the castle was making Omen's stomach churn, and it was nice to at least have someone to blame.) 

"Oh, well aren't _we_ in a sunshine-happy mood today?" Beetle said, raising an eyebrow. 

And Booster added, "You'd still be in that cell if it wasn't for _me,_ don't forget." 

"I _haven't_ forgotten, I just--what's Munchy up to NOW?" 

Booster and Beetle turned to find the pale yellow mare shoving the window open with her nose. "We escape!" she said cheerfully. 

"Because that worked sooo well for me and Booster," Blue Beetle said, crossing his arms. 

"Munchy! Get away from there before someone sees you!" 

"No one see I Munchy. I Munchy _sneaky._ Ninja!" She ducked down, crouching in front of the window, then stealthily raised her head until she was peeking over the windowsill. 

Omen sighed heavily and a tad overdramatically. "I can see that you aren't going to make it _anywhere_ without my help." Despite the tone of his words, he was beginning to feel downright cheerful. He was out of the dungeons at last and well on his way to freedom. Even the two elves or oohmans or whatever they were couldn't spoil his mood (and besides, there was something oddly cheering about being around them.) "Okay, here's the plan: we sneak through the hall to the far end of this wing of the castle--" 

"Munchy wants to go on the roof." 

"No, we'll be spotted if we do that," Omen said patiently. "We go through the hallway--the castle's massive and we're _already_ near the far end, so it should take a while before the search parties get up here--and then we find the servants staircase. Made for grundles, originally," he explained to Booster and Beetle. "but they only have a few in the castle these days, and _they_ live downstairs now." 

"Know your castle history, don't you?" Beetle asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I scouted it out the first day I got here," Omen said with a casual shrug of his broad white shoulders. "Anyway, it'll be sized for grundles, not ponies, so--" 

"Well, but they must be pretty tiny if they can fit through those passageways we were in earlier," Booster objected. 

"Yeah, but they have feet as big as yours." The Clydesdale lowered his head, inspecting their feet. "Maybe bigger." 

"How will _you_ get down, if the stairs are that narrow?" Beetle asked, returning the favor as he eyed Omen's massive, feathered hooves. 

"Very carefully," Omen said. "Okay, everybody ready?" 

"Munchy still wants to use roof," the meat-covered pony muttered, but she relcutantly joined the others by the door, even so. 

"This will be a piece of cake. Just follow my lead." Omen pulled open the door and confidently led the little troupe into the hall. 

All heads simultaneously swiveled towards the pink pony just starting around the corner at the end of the corridor, just few doors down. She hadn't spotted them yet, as she was partly turned, talking to someone just out of sight around the corner. 

" . . . hope I find him first, because after the humilation I went through, I want to break that worthless, scheming Clydesdale's _back._ Then I'm going to take a copy of that stupid, fraudlent _foretelling_ of his and stuff it up his--" 

Omen and the other quietly shuffled back through the doorway and ever so softly pushed it shut before they could catch the rest. The stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other with vague, unseeing looks as they listened to a muffled continuation of Parasol's tirade (because of course that's who it was.) 

Booster pressed his ear to the door, his brow furrowed as he listened. "Wow," he said a few times, and "Ouch," and finally, "I don't think that's physically possible." His expression became anxious as a solid thud sounded from the hall. "I think . . ." He straightened, glancing around the small circle. "Guys, I think they've started kicking in the doors." 

They all exchanged glances. 

Beetle looked at Omen. "Roof?" 

"Roof." Omen said. 

"I Munchy _told_ you so," a voice crowed in Omen's ear as he pushed open the panes. 


	18. Chapter 17: Daring Escapes, Sort Of

**_Chapter 17_**

Fortunately a tangled snarl of ivy clung beneath the window, providing a means of reaching the expanse of the main roofing. Even more fortunately, none of the pegasi happened to flit by and notice two humans and two ponies awkwardly descending. Actually, Blue Beetle and Booster Gold were managing quite well, climbing down the thick twists of vines with ease, barely pausing to test the sturdiness of their support with a little tug or a questing pat of a spandexed foot. Neither one showed the slightest bit of apprehension about being so high above the ground that the world spread beneath them like a scaled down model, complete with tiny pastel specks drifting over a background of green. (Beetle, in fact, crawled down headfirst, for the sole purpose of showing off.) 

Their nonchalance was not _so_ surprising. Blue Beetle, after all, had built his superhero identity around his gymnastic talents and could have been an Olympic medalist had he not decided that running around in spandex sounded like more fun. As for Booster, he was fairly athletic himself, for all his reliance on technology. More to the point, his subconscious had not quite processed the knowledge that his flight ring was out of commission yet. 

The ponies, on the other hand . . . The ponies ran into considerably more problems. After a few false starts, Munchy managed to inch her way down by firmly gripping the thickest and most gnarled vine she could find, both wrapping her front legs around it sinking her sharpened teeth into the dry ridges of bark. Her hind feet occasionally slipped against the carpet of leaves or the pink marble walls. At last her hooves touched down against the slate roof and she spat out the plant in disgust as she braced her legs against the curve of the roof. "Green stuff taste yucky!" she said, making expressive grimaces as she rolled her tongue around her mouth, trying to exorcise the taste. "Munchy is _hungry!"_ she added pitifully, tugging at a slipping ribbon on her foreleg. 

"Things are tough all over," Blue Beetle said unsympathetically, then pretended not to notice when Munchy glowered at him and muttered "I Munchy think _you_ look tasty" under her breath. Meanwhile Booster had his neck craned, staring up at the window. Omen had waited until everyone else got down first, knowing he was the heaviest of the four. 

"You know . . ." Booster began, watching the white Clydesdale's white face and shock of purple hair appear as the pony stretched out his neck and tentatively caught at the same vine Munchy had used. 

"We know what?" Beetle asked after Booster lapsed into silence, lost in thought. "We _don't_ know because you haven't told us." 

"Hm? Oh." Booster watched Omen clench the vine in his teeth with a deathgrip as he swung himself out the window. "I was just going to say maybe he should take off those saddlebags before he comes down." 

As if to prove Booster's point, the momentum from Omen's leap of faith slammed him into the wall hard enough to let loose a small flurry of marble chips before the vine caught his weight--and promptly proceeded to peel away under the combined weight of the hefty white pony and the overloaded saddlebags on his back. 

Time holds still when you're watching a massive pony plummeting towards you in a tangled blur of failing hooves, twisting limbs and falling greenery, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, maybe less, before Blue Beetle gathered his wits enough to swing around to tackle Booster, pushing him clear of Omen's impromptu landing pad just before the white pony crashed. His landing cracked the roof tiles, sending bits of blue-grey shrapnel flying as vines and leaves snaked around him before settling in the clouds of slatey dust. 

Booster and Beetle rose unsteadily to their feet just as Omen sat up and uttered a short but emphatic word unbecoming of a pastel pony. Munchy, who had scrambled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a yellow and coral pancake, glared at Omen as her tail lashed from side to side. 

"Hairy white pony fat and _stupid,"_ she announced. "Why you not take bag-things off back?? You nearly squash Munchy!" 

"And what a loss _that_ would be," Omen grumped. 

"She's right, Einstein!" Beetle snapped. "Who in their right mind--oh look, those myriads of tiny cracks forming beneath our feet can't be good." 

The others looked down at the hairline fractures rapidly branching throughout the abused ceramic tiles they were standing on. 

"I'm really beginning to hate this place," Omen said just before the tiles came loose completely and they toppled off the roof. 

The four would surely have been grateful to the pegasus Firefly for inventing the dangerous thrill-sport of "roof surfing" if they had seen Parasol briefly glance towards the window, growl "Stupid pegs . . . heads are just as hollow as their bones", and move on with an irate flick of her rainbow tail. 

However, their immediate concern was how far they were going to fall and how hard the landing was going to be. 

"Whooooof!" Booster crashed across Omen's back and part of Munchy's neck, the wind knocked out of him. He spared a glare for Beetle as _he_ landed on his feet. 

"Show-off." 

"I _told_ you you should learn to fall right," Beetle pointed out as he crouched, balancing on his toes as he rested his arms across his knees. 

"Ohhhh . . . my head . . . my back . . . my _everything!"_ Omen groaned. 

"I Munchy NOT LIKE FALLING!" the yellow mare complained, untangling herself from Omen. She looked particularly peeved as she added, "Munchy's ribbons once more _unarranged!"_

"Well, on the bright side . . . at least we didn't plummet _all_ the way down, to our deaths," Blue Beetle pointed out, looking around. 

"No, death wouldn't hurt this much," Omen said, sitting up. "Where _did_ we land, then? Oh--the lower roof." The roof was built in rough, irregular tiers, with towers rising from every level. 

"If we go over there, we'll be between those two little towers," said Booster, pointing. "The overhangs will hide us, sort of." 

"Better than nothing," Beetle said. They went, with the ponies picking their footing carefully on the gently sloping roof. The area Booster had indicated was between two minor towers rising side by side, further hidden due to a third, larger tower rearing up just behind them. They squashed into the space, bumping into each other and treading on tails and feet in the dark. 

"Well," Booster said after they had maintained a cramped and uncomfortable silence for about five minutes. "Now what?" 

"Now we . . . we . . ." 

"Now we wait until dark," Omen interrupted, "and make our daring escape." 

"Till dark?! I Munchy not like this place already now!" 

"It'll be dark soon," Booster said soothingly, patting an equine head. "Take a nap or something." 

"That's _me_ your patting, genius." 

"Oops, sorry Omen." 

"Hmph." 

The silence stretched for a bit and the ponies did indeed nod off, judging from their quiet, rhythmic breathing as they lay curled. 

"It'll be dark soon," Beetle repeated, looking out at the crack of sky as sunset pinks and purples tinted his goggles in splendour. He glanced at his friend. "We've been gone almost a whole day." 

Booster shifted as he leaned back against the wall. "Think they're looking for us?" 

Beetle considered. "Nah, they're probably just emptying out your room, auctioning off your stuff--" 

"Oh, you are _hilarous."_ Booster rolled his eyes, a gesture lost in the dark. 

"And don't I know it." He looked out at the sky again. "Batman knows we're missing." 

"Hope he's not still mad at us for putting sugar in the Batmobile's gas tank." 

"That wasn't _us,_ it was _you."_

"Actually it was _you,_ but who's keeping track?" 

"48 to 36." 

"Uh huh, right. Does that include me whupping you back in the throne room?" 

_"I_ clearly whupped _you_, in fact." 

"You wish." 

"Don't have to." 

They fell silent again, listening to the wind sweep by and the ponies breathing. 

"So . . . you really think Batman can figure out a way to get us out of here? (Wherever here is?)" 

"Sure." 

"But . . . do you _really?_ Because, I mean, this place . . . pink castles . . . talking ponies . . ." 

"He can do anything, Booster. He's _Batman."_

"Huh." 

"Really, he can." 

Booster drew his legs in closer as his eyes drifted shut. "But can he tell you how many licks to the center of a Tootsie Pop?" he said in a drowsing voice, and promptly fell asleep. 

Blue Beetle let his companions slumber as he sat leaning his chin resting on his arms, which were crossed across his knees. He watched the slender gap leading out of their impromptu, crowded shelter. In his experience, loud crashes usually prompted investigations; then again, superhero reportoire did not include anything involving talking ponies. Life here--wherever here was--seemed hectic to the point of being in fast forward, and maybe ponies were used to things slamming into the roof. In any case, although a few laughing pegasi occasionally swung in and out of his narrow perspective, making his heart jump as their wings shadowed him from the sun, no one found them. The sky sunk from purple-pink to a pale blue, until even that faded into black, from east to west. Beetle waited in the darkness until the moon, full and yellow, casually drifted into view. Pale moonlight flooded through the gap between the towers, gleaming off the humans' goggles and highlighting the shadows twisting through the ponies' thick tresses. 

"Booster." Beetle whispered, leaning over and poking his friend, who was curled between the two ponies, using Omen's neck as a pillow as he braced his feet against Munchy's side. "Hey Booster, wake up." 

"Nnnhphmm?" Booster curled up tighter so that his face was effectively buried in his arms, which were partially cushioning his head. "Mmmngh." 

"Booster, seriously, wake up!" He shook Booster's shoulder and was rewarded by the sight of one bleary blue eye briefly flickering into view before Booster mumbled something incoherent about french toast and bow ties and rolled to face the less bothersome wall. 

"Boos-ter!" Beetle said in exasperation, then decided to change his strategy. "Hey Omen--" 

"If you're going to tell me to wake up then don't bother, because I've been awake ever since you started bellowing at your friend." 

"I wasn't _bellowing,"_ Beetle said indignantly. "Anyway, this looks like a good a time as any to get off the roof, so why don't you wake up Booster and Munchy while I go out on the roof and scout around?" 

"Oh, I don't know . . . how about because I've deduced that your friend sleeps like the dead and Munchy will probably chew my face off if she wakes up?" 

"I'm sure you'll work something out. See you in a minute." Beetle slipped outside before Omen could get in another word. 

The moonlight gave the blue tiles a luminous glow, disrupted only by Blue Beetle's shadow, a dark and two-dimensional version of him matching his movements step for step as he moved across the slope of roof. He found himself humming softly as he climbed carefully, picking a path that led him closer and closer to the ground. "Swing me to the moon, let me play among the stars . . . Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars . . ." 

He paused as he reached the edge of an overhang that was only ten or twelve feet above a small cobblestone courtyard. Beetle flattened out on his stomach, crept close, and sharply surveyed the area for several minutes while the moonlight glinted off his goggles. At last he backed away from the roof's edge and sat up, resting on his ankles, thinking. He tilted his head to take in the full moon and the stretch of brilliant stars again before standing and retracing his steps. 

By the time he returned to the others, Booster was in a semi-conscious state, snapping groggily at Omen for waking him up. Omen looked more worried about the muttered, irritable comments of "I Munchy hungry" than about Booster's threats. 

"Guess what?" Beetle asked before they could commence killing each other. 

"Ooo! I Munchy guess . . . twelve!" 

Booster and Omen looked at her as she sat smiling proudly, then turned back to Beetle. 

"What?" Omen asked unwillingly. 

"I found a way off the roof!" Beetle said. 

"Oh. Well . . . good." 

"Not twelve?" Munchy said in disappointment. 

"Not this time," Booster told her. 

"Come on, let's get out of here while it's still dark. By morning the place will be crawling with ponies again, I'm sure," Beetle said, leading the way. 

Beetle had chosen a path with a gentle grade to accomodate the ponies, but they still slipped occasionally--especially Omen, with his broad hooves. Still, before _too_ long the eaves of the roof spread out before them, partially cutting off their view of the courtyard below. 

Beetle quietly held up a hand, signalling the others to stop. He slunk to the edge of the roof, his eyes flicking over the trees and flowering shrubs decorating the edges of the courtyard. Nothing moved. Still--better safe than sorry. 

"Wait here," he hissed over his shoulder; without waiting for a response, he gripped the gutter and somersaulted forward, unfolding his legs in mid-air to land neatly in a crouch. He stayed that way a few seconds, ready for an attack; when none came, he straightened and looked around. The area was small, just a simple pathway with a small garden running along the edge. Behind him was a sturdy door leading into the castle. 

In front of him, a covered passageway stretched a few lengths before opening into a much larger courtyard decorated with flowering bushes and ornamental shrubs. Most prominent of these were thick green bushes, planted side by side around the perimeter of the garden, which had been clipped into the shape of a sinuous oriental dragon. The foliage of the bushes meshed, they were so close together, and thus the dragon seemed to be one continuous plant creature, crawling along the garden with brown-barked legs. From what Beetle could see, its body seemed to stretch right over the doorway he was peering through before sliding down to a lower height. The dragon's head leered from the far side of the large courtyard, poised over another doorway which (Beetle hoped) led completely out of the castle gardens. The head seemed to have a carved stone base, with greenery seeded into it, like . . . well, a Chia Pet. A big, draconian Chia Pet. Beetle found himself thinking that instead of a library, the ponies really needed some good therapists. 

"So is it clear?" someone suddenly whispered in his ear, causing him to jump. 

"Booster! You're supposed to be on the roof!" Blue Beetle scolded in an undertone. 

"We were getting bored, sitting there watching you stare through that doorway," Booster shrugged. "So we decided to come down." 

"'We'?" Beetle turned around just in time see Munchy jump cautiously off the roof, rapidly followed by Omen falling off the roof, saddlebags and all, and landing on her. He knocked the wind out of her and as a result her outraged squawk was mercifully quiet. 

"Don't look at me like that." Booster crossed his arms defensively. "They had to get off _sometime_, didn't they?" 

"All right, all right . . . Anyway, the coast is clear. We'll just head straight out through that garden to freedom." 

"To freedom," Booster agreed, with a hint of hesitation. 

"You two--get over here. And keep _quiet_," the human in blue added sternly, as Munchy had gotten her breath back. 

"But big fat pony land on--!" 

"Tell me about it later. Wait--even better idea--tell _Booster_ about it later. Right now we're going to get out of here before anyone tries to trample us or sling us in prison again, okay?" 

"And we're going to be vewy, vewy quiet," Booster added solemnly. "We're hunting wabbits." 

Omen and Munchy stared at him in confusion and Blue Beetle narrowly prevented himself from bursting out laughing. 

"Okay, enough theatrics," he said after he'd regained control. "Let's go." 

"No argument here. I can't wait to get out of this place," Omen muttered. 

Beetle led the way, moving swiftly and silently through the short, tunnel-like passage. Booster followed, padding quietly in his soft boots. Even the ponies picked their way with such care that their hooves made no sound except a faint scrape against the cobblestones. 

"Clear sailing from here," Beetle whispered. Not that anyone in the castle would be able to hear them, but the moonlight and the shadowy dragon made it hard to break the hush. 

By unspoken consensus, they kept close together, moving in a tight group. The high walls of the courtyard blocked the moonlight that had guided them on the roof and the Japanese lanterns hung from curling black iron hooks along the edges of the courtyard shone dimly. Each one glimmered with luminescent green light, a cold firefly light, but they shone so dimly that they did little more than cast strange, shifting shadows on the topiary dragon. 

Something rustled. 

_That's just my imagination,_ Blue Beetle told himself. _There's nothing there. I mean, no one else heard anything, right?_ He looked behind him and discovered Booster staring around wide-eyed while Munchy whimpered and huddled against him and Omen, looking around frantically, backed closer to the rest of the group. 

"It was the wind," Beetle hissed at them, trying to sound confident. 

"What?" Booster whispered back. 

"I said, it's just the _wind."_

"No it wasn't," Omen whispered fiercely. 

"I Munchy think--" 

"No one cares what you think, Munchy. And it was not the wind." 

"It _was."_

"Why don't you both shut up so we can get out of here?" Booster hissed. 

Blue Beetle nodded and jerked his head towards the distant doorway, under the dragon's head. Munchy and Omen nodded. The ponies were too heavy to climb back onto the roof, and the only other way out of the gardens was through the castle. This was a case of "better the devil that you don't know." 

They tiptoed on, traveling in a close huddle. 

_But it WAS just the wind,_ Blue Beetle told himself firmly, trying to ignore the rapid tempo of his heartbeat. _Tomorrow we'll all laugh about being so nervy and--What the hell is THAT thing??_

"That thing", from what he could see, was a huge piece of white cloth draped over something in the dead center of the garden. A wide stone pedestal was just visible under the edge of the material. 

_For a statue? Or maybe it's a fountain? And the material looks like cotton . . . like a bedsheet or something. What's it doing _here? "Yes, I see it, yes, thank you," he muttered at Booster, who had begun pointing at the rise of material with one hand and poking Beetle with the other. 

_"What's it doing here?"_ Booster hissed. 

"Well . . . well . . . well, it's just that the ponies probably have some ceremony where they drape a white cloth in the garden to signify the purity of the full moon, and--" 

"No we don't." 

"Shut up, Omen!" Beetle snapped, sotto. "I don't care what it is, we're going past it. Honestly, you guys are such cowards! Nothing bad's going to happen to us. Nothing's here." 

A twig snapped somewhere up ahead. 

"Oh my God, we're gonna die," Booster moaned softly, momentarily forgetting he was an atheist. 

"But I Munchy not WANT to die," Munchy whimpered. 

"Oh, hush," Omen said, leaning close so they could hear them. "Let's just go get it over with, shall we?" He marched forward with his royal purple held high and his head raised stubbornly, for all the world as if he was leading a parade . . . except he still stepped with exceeding softness and his nostrils trembled. 

The others followed, trying to be ready for anything. From the left came the soft sound of leaves swishing against each other; then from the right, a muffled scuffing noise, followed by a faint suggestion of whispered giggles. The soft intervals of stifled laughter intensified as they walked, then dropped into an anticipatory silence as they stood directly in front of the white cloth that shifted gently in the breeze. 

Omen tried to make his throat unclench. This land, if not this particular castle, was his home, and he wasn't going to falter in front of the two humans who had never seen another pony up close. Except Munchy. But she was insane, so she didn't count. Anyway, she was busy cowering. And he wasn't. He _wouldn't_. 

Omen cleared his throat and spoke in a jarringly loud voice that cracked only a little. "What the hell IS this?" he demanded. 

Light flared on all sides, brilliant and blinding, and a chorus of enthusiastic voices shrieked, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WIGWAM!!!!" 

Booster, by grace of his goggles, was the first to recover and was treated to the sight of Omen gaping incredulously even as two pegasus ponies leapt out of nowhere to whip the sheet away to reveal a huge cake set on the highest "pool" of a dry fountain, while various other ponies enthusiastically leapt out of the bushes, cheering and gleefully stomping their hooves. After waiting in near-darkness so long, the abrupt dazzle of the levitating ball of light (provided by a blue unicorn with a sun on his rump) had temporarily blinded everyone there to everything but the vaguest of silhouttes. Best to leave before that changed. 

"We need to get out of here," Booster yelled, trying to be heard over the chorus of mares shrieking, "WE LOOOOOOVE YOU, WIGGY!" Apparently he wasn't loud enough, because Beetle continued to stare, open-mouthed, at the panedomium around him. Honestly, it _was_ incredible to think that so many ponies could squash behind those bushes. With balloons, no less. Not to mention the kegs they were rolling out. What did it say on the sides? "Rainbowberry Juice"? 

Suddenly, the crowd began to quiet as ponies' eyes adjusted. 

"Heeeeey . . . " one unicorn muttered, while nearby a pegasus uneasily ruffled her wings. One by one the expressions of glee and celebration melted into incredulity. Party blowers fell to the drop as jaws unhinged in disbelief. The two groups stared at each other. 

A yellow pegasus--Skydancer, of course--fluttered down from his perch on the fountain and strode over to get a closer look. He tilted his head owlishly, regarding the stunned white Clydesdale. At last he leaned back on his haunches and said with mock solemnity, "Wigwam! My, how you've changed!" 

Maybe his remark didn't break the spell completely, but the ear-splitting shriek of rage from Parasol surely must have. "YOU!!" The pale pink pony lunged at Omen with blood in her eyes and the crowd around her, motivated either by herd instinct or simply a keen desire for a brawl, let out a lusty roar and charged with her. 

For an instant Booster and Beetle froze in a paralysis inspired by sheer terror as multiple tons of horseflesh stampeded towards them. Then Beetle turned to his best friend and stated solemnly, "What a stupid way to die." As Booster nodded, Omen backed into their midst, dodging and ducking a veritable wall of kicking, biting ponies. 

A little ways away, the partygoers-turned-mob suddenly began pushing back on themselves as ponies backed away amidst panicked cries of "Munchy! It's Munchy!" It was indeed Munchy, Munchy crouched and growling ferally, curling her lips back in a snarl that displayed her jagged teeth. She sprung, landing beside her three companions and sending the other ponies scrambling away from the group. 

"That won't hold them forever. Mobs inspire stupidity and bravery," Beetle pointed out. 

"So what do we DO?" Booster demanded. 

Munchy growled at the crowd that already inched closer. Her head swiveled from Omen and the humans to the all-too-distant exit to Omen and the humans and back again. And with sudden decision on her face, she grabbed Booster by the collar and tossed him over her shoulder. 

"Hey! Oof!" he protested, landing awkwardly on Munchy's back. Unfortunately, he was the wrong way round. That didn't stop Blue Beetle's eyes from lighting up, though. 

"Good idea. Omen, get over here." 

"What idea? What--OW. OW OW OW." Omen's head jerked sideways as Beetle caught a handful of his mane and pulled himself onto the Clydesdale's wide back, settling himself in front of the saddlebags. "What are you DOING?" Omen demanded. 

"Didn't you get the memo? This is our daring escape!" Beetle grinned. "Go, Munchy!" 

Munchy leapt forward with a wild shriek, opening a path as the ponies in front of her scattered like chaff. Omen pulled himself together and gallopped in her wake. Booster clung on to Munchy as best he could; having tyed ribbons around Munchy's belly after running out of other areas turned out to have been a _good_ thing. Blue Beetle was having no problem staying on Omen, squashed as he was between the Clydesdale's neck and the uncomfortably lumpy saddlebags. But he comforted himself with the knowledge that they were home free . . . 

An instant later he was trying to catch his breath as Omen leapt over a sudden jolt of blue lightning lashing across their path. Fireballs followed, screaming like bombs as they plummeted towards them. 

"Unicorns," Omen said shortly, muscles straining as he ran. Blue Beetle turned his head and, sure enough, the unicorns were tossing all the deadliest elements towards them with a mere flick of their spiral horns. They had charged with all the rest when the brawl began, caught in the moment; but now they calmly let their magic do the work for them as they sat sedately, regarding Omen and Munchy with some satisfaction as they darted and dodged. 

"Keep going, we're almost there!" Beetle shouted in Omen's ear. They _were_. They _were_ almost there. The Chia-Dragon's head loomed ahead of them--they were going to make it-- 

"Vengeance of the earth, ARISE!" one of the unicorns called, rearing (to which another calmly commented, "You're such a drama queen, Thorn.") 

Nothing seemed to change. Munchy and Omen shot through the doorway with their nostrils wide and their legs pounding. 

"We made it!" Beetle shrieked as the ponies raced through the sudden sparse grass of the outside world. "Keep going! Keep going! We made it! We're home free." 

"Beetle?" Booster was still facing backwards astride Munchy; his eyes were fixed on the doorway behind him. "You might want to tell him that." 

He did not bother pointing as a sinuous, leafy green dragon darted through the doorway, twisting its head and snapping its stone jaws as it raced towards them with remarkable speed. 

  



	19. Chapter 18: Out of the Frying Pan

  
_**Chapter Eighteen**_

  
The dragon was long and lithe, its great maned head twisting from side to side as it ran and its thin tail, made of long slender branches, whipping from side to side at the end of the serpentine body. Its multitude of legs rippled in sync, one rough brown limb hitting the ground after another in perfect rhythm as the beast stampeded after its quarry. 

It flowed forward rapidly, but also with such grace that it was hard to credit its quickness, for surely nothing so large should be able to move with speed _and_ grace. 

Still, Blue Beetle was more than willing to believe it after the stone jaws snapped mere inches from his shoulder. 

"Omen! FASTER!" he yelled, pressing forward into the pony's royal purple mane. 

"This . . . _is_ . . . faster!" the Clydesdale panted, his muscles bulging and flexing with every desperate stride. He was built for strength, not speed, and it was beginning to show. 

Blue Beetle glanced at Munchy, who was still pulling ahead, and then glanced back again. Looking over your shoulder while bouncing along on a galloping horse at night is not the best way to make careful observations; Blue Beetle had an impression of moonlight and shadow shifting over a leering face with glowing amber eyes looming close while a long body coiled and looped behind it. Great. Just great. 

Beetle slipped a collapsible pocket knife out of his belt, flipped it open, and half turned. 

"What are you _doing?_" Omen demanded, detecting the movement. 

"Don't talk, RUN! I'm getting rid of some deadweight." Beetle grabbed one of the straps securing the saddlebags. 

"You're WHAT?" Omen shrieked, turning his head. "Stop it!" 

"Stop wasting your BREATH!" Beetle sawed frantically; the leather was resisting the knife more than it should have. 

"I'll stop wasting my breath when you stop hacking at my _stuff!"_ Omen yelled over his shoulder. "Every single thing I _own_ is in those!" 

"Including your LIFE?" snapped Beetle. 

"Why don't YOU jump off if you're so worried me?" 

"Hardy har--" Beetle broke off as Omen stumbled with a jolt that almost nearly made Beetle cut off a few of his fingers. "Be CAREFUL, can't you?" 

"YOU try running over this stuff, two legs!" 

Indeed, the meadow grass surrounding the castle had devolved into an abrupt downgrade of loose shale. Omen's wide hooves crunched rock with every stride and Munchy slipped and would have fallen had she not twisted her body and regained her balance at the last minute. Behind them two burning eyes exploded over the rise, followed by the sound of dozens of roughly formed feet scattering the flat, chalky stones. 

"Munchy lose plant-monster," the yellow pony called over her shoulder. "Follow Munchy!" 

Omen rolled his eyes doubtfully, but he followed, putting on a surprising burst of speed that drew him almost even with the carnivorous pony. Booster, by this time, had managed to turn himself right way round and now clung to Munchy's greasy mane with a death-grip. Beetle had given up on the saddlebags, as he was bouncing around so much that he was more likely to stab himself in the eye than cut through the leather straps. 

"Not far now!" Munchy called confidentally. "Munchy--I Munchy--smarter than stupid plant-thing! It not follow us where we go!" 

"That's good, that's great, just stop talking and get us there!" Booster shouted. "The sooner the bett--LOOK OUT!" 

A blur of green suddenly shot in front of them, a wall of neatly clipped oval leaves blocking their way. Munchy took a calm, calculating look, gathered her herself as she gallopped, and leapt over it with almost feline grace. Omen lowered his head and recklessly charged _through_ it, emerging from the other side shaking twigs out of his mane. 

"Almost there! Bottom of hill!" Munchy picked up speed, her legs pounding in an ever-increasing tempo. Omen followed on her tail, running flat out with his neck stretched and his head held low. Both humans were getting treated to a face full of whipping mane, one purple, one coral. Finally Booster, clenching his hands around a particularly tightly tied ribbon, leaned to the left, trying to see past Munchy's neck. The world bounced and jittered in front of him, tinted with shadows and moonlight. He saw that the steep slope flattened briefly in front of them, and then . . . 

"Munchy!" he shrieked. "Munchy, that's a CLIFF!" 

"Right! Stupid monster not follow us over _that!"_ Munchy shouted triumphantly over her shoulder even as she leapt, her hooves stretching on empty air. 

* * *

The good news was that Wigwam's birthday party was a rousing success. 

Not only had it featured a surprise appearance by the rogue Omen and the infamous Munchy, but everyone had gotten a chance to get another good look at the two humans. Many ponies had been regretful about sending them to the dungeons when they obviously had such great entertainment value and they were pleased to see Blue Beetle and Booster Whatever make another appearance. Indeed, a large portion of the community felt peevish towards Thorn for animating the topiary shrubs and chasing Munchy, Omen, and the humans over the cliffs and into the river. 

"I really thought Omen was going to stop in time," Firefly said in a voice tinged with regret. "I really did." But no, the white Clydesdale's attempt to skid to a stop had come too late and he had tumbled into the rushing river after Munchy. The dragon, singleminded, had made a final attempt to catch its quarry, with its serpentine body snapping out over the river as the stone jaws clashed behind Omen's tail. In the end the creature had overbalanced and lost its grip on the loose shale, its body writhing as it fell. 

That was the bad news. Not so much for the loss of the shrub-dragon(although that was a shame too) as for Posey's reaction. 

"I can't believe--" The pink-haired pony closed her eyes, her yellow body trembling with passion. "I cannot BELIEVE that you did such a thing, Thorn! How could you? How COULD you??" Posey looked like she was either going to burst out crying or kick the green unicorn in front of her to kingdom come. 

"I'm sorry, okay? It seemed like a good idea at the time!" The green unicorn swished her tail uneasily. "I can use my powers to help your grow more--" 

"NO!" The tulips decorating Posey's flanks quivered as she recoiled from the offer. "Unicorn magic is no substitute for REAL gardening! Do you know how many HOURS it took me to grow those shrubs? To make their edges mesh seamlessly? How I SLAVED over them, clipping them into shape? Hour after hour, day after day?" 

"I can't help it if you're a glutton for punishment," Thorn said, looking less sympathetic than before. 

"You know nothing about a gardner's passions! Nothing!" Posey said loftily. "I watered those bushes, I weeded them, I talked to them--" 

"Posey, have you ever thought about getting a hobby? A hobby to distract you from your other hobby?" Skydancer asked kindly. 

"Don't talk to me! I'm grieving!" Sure enough, Posey's yellow muzzle wrinkled in a sniffle. "M-my poor babies! Uprooted in the prime of their life and . . . *choke, sob* . . . DROWNED!" 

Thorn rolled her eyes and blew a strand of red hair out of her eyes in exasperation. "Great Rainbow above, what a load of--" 

"Hey, what's going on?" Various ponies turned to see an orange Clydesdale with white hair blinking in surprise. 

"Wigwam!" several voices shouted at once, enthusiastically. 

"Great party, Wiggy!" 

"I _thought_ someone was missing!" 

"Happy birthday!" 

"Uh . . . thanks." Wigwam looked around, noting the trench of torn dirt following the perimeter of the courtyard. "Uh . . . so . . . what happened to the hedge sculpture?" 

Posey sobbed something incoherent at him; Wigwam looked baffled. 

"It's a long story," Skydancer grinned. "Come have some punch and we'll fill you in. Did you miss a show!" 

"I think th'punch," Moonstone told Wigwam solemnly, "ish _shpiked."_ He nodded sagely as Wigwam joined him, Skydancer, and a few other ponies who were gathered around the base of the fountain, which was still crowned with a massive cake. 

Skydancer quickly spelled out the events of the evening for the orange Clydesdale. "--and _then_ Munchy made this fantastic leap--it was beautiful, just beautiful. In that moment, she could have been a pegassus." Skydancer took a sip of punch. "Except for not having wings." 

"I can't believe she did that. She really _is_ insane," Sunlight said, shaking his head. 

"Well, _I_ can't believe that Omen _got away."_ Parasol scowled. "After he spent an entire summer here trouncing around pretending to be a mystic . . . with his idiotic _prophecies--"_

The other ponies studied the ground. One of the Omen's prophecies had been that terrible fates awaited Dream Valley unless Parasol married. As a result, Parasol had spent many long, aggravating weeks dodging stallions who displayed an ever-increasing tendency to pop out of the bushes, throw flowers in her face, and propose. The incident had _not _ left Parasol with any charitable feelings towards Omen. 

"He was standing right over there," she pointed, sighing. "I could have reached him and strangled him with his own tail if everyone and her sister hadn't gotten in my way." 

"There'sh ALWAYS 'nother raaaaainbow . . . shhheeeearch until you fiiiind it--" Moonstone sang at her, then quietly toppled backwards into unconsciousness. 

"Oh dear," Sunlight murmured. 

"Well, sounds like I missed out on a lot," Wigwam said, sounding as if he wasn't sure if that was necessarily a bad thing. "So . . . you guys want to dig into the cake?" 

"Oh, that reminds me . . . you didn't miss _quite"_ everything," Skydancer spread his yellow wings and flew up to the stone basin holding the icing-covered monstrosity and rapped a hoof against the fountain three times. 

The ponies gaped as a blur of white and pink exploded forth from the cake, sending globs of frosting over everyone within a surprisingly large radius. 

"Well, it's about TIME! I thought I was going to suffocate!" Lovin' Kisses said with a full-lipped pout, the lower half of her body still embedded in the cake. "Soooo . . ." She half-closed her eyes, displaying her long lashes. "Where's the birthday boy?" 

"Oh boy. You shouldn't have, Skydancer." Wigwam rubbed a splotch of white and pink frosting off his nose. "I mean, you really, really shouldn't have." 

And he sounded like he meant it. 

* * *

For that timeless instant the pale cliffs shrieked by and then the water hit with a thunderclap that knocked them breathless even as bubbles curled around them, marking a trail to the surface. 

A little dazed, Blue Beetle watched the dreamlike scene unfolding in front of him. Munchy's legs slowly paddling as her mane flowed from her neck like a banner, with the colorful ribbons trailing and curling in the currents. Booster, bracing his feet against her back as he crouched, trying to free the hand tangled in a ribbon tied tightly across Munchy's back. Omen, legs churning, fighting hard against the current as the overstuffed saddlebags across his back pulled him down. 

_This river isn't that deep,_ Beetle thought with startling coherency. _But we could drown in it anyway. I still have the knife. I could help Booster, or Omen . . ._

Munchy had recovered from the shock of the water and was pumping her way steadily to the surface, pulling Booster with her. Omen was still sinking. Beetle somersaulted until he was facing the right direction and began angling downward, cutting through the water with a steady, rhythmic stroke made only slightly inconsistent by the knife gripped in his right hand. 

The river was fast and clear and not too deep, having carved its way straight through rock to create its winding path. Beetle had a clear view of his target as he reached out a hand to catch the locks of dark purple hair swirling and dancing in the river-filtered moonlight. 

Omen's head jerked in surprise as Beetle pulled himself down to the pony. The superhero wrapped his legs around Omen's back to hold himself steady while he pulled one of the leather straps taut with one hand and sawed feverishly at it with the other. The strap did not cut any easier now than it had when Omen had been running, and Beetle found himself calculating how long it would take to free the _other_ two saddlebags besides. 

_Not gonna make it,_ Beetle thought, and hacked at the leather harder than ever. 

He had cut through four-fifths of it when the strap suddenly gave. It came loose with such suddenness that Beetle, who had been pulling the strap towards him and counting on it for support, suddenly found himself toppling backwards off Omen's back and pulling the saddlebag with him, now that it was free. It tumbled onto the bottom of the river definitively, sending its contents tumbling onto the riverbed as it did so. 

Omen's hooves hit the smooth-worn rocks lining the river at almost the same time, and he pushed off against it with enough force to send himself surging towards the surface. Beetle's right hand briefly touched the bottom as well before his legs braced and pushed against the bottom too; kicking frantically, he managed to catch the end of Omen's tail in his free hand for an impromptu tow to the surface. 

Omen broke the water with a gasp and a toss of his head that sent water spraying. Beetle surfaced a moment later, transfering his grip from Omen's tail to his mane as the fast-flowing river spun them past the towering cliffs. 

"Hey! Heeeeeey, Beetle!!" 

Beetle arched his neck, kicking hard to push his body high enough to see above the white-capped waves cresting around him. He saw a blur of pale yellow ahead--Munchy, with Booster hanging on to the ribbons straggling over her back. 

"Where were you?" Boooster called as the current swept the two ponies closer together. "I was getting worried!" 

"Long story!" Beetle called back, blinking as river water drained out of his goggles. 

Omen snorted and sneezed, with thin trickles of water trailing from each nostril. Then he asked, "Now what? We can't get to shore from here!" 

This was true. In fact, there was no shore to get to. The river had carved its way straight through the rock and the cliffs jutted out of the river without interupption. 

"I Munchy say no worry!" She shouted to be heard over an ever-increasing roar. "Much more better places to get out after waterfall!" 

"Why can't we ever have a nice _normal_ vacation?" Booster complained as frothing billows of spray reared above them, accompanied by a deafening roar. 

* * *

Batman was perturbed. 

Booster Gold and Blue Beetle, hardly the most subtle members of the Justice League, had disappeared in front of his very eyes (or pupilless white lenses, as the case may be), and he, the World's Greatest Detective, had not been able to find them again. 

He had carefully searched the conference room. 

He had backtracked to the pantry and examined the empty oreo bags on the floor and the hole which J'onn (presumably) had punched in the wall. 

He had looked through the empty TV room, with its sad, blank-screened television that sat entangled in wires from various game systems, plus the VCR. 

He had hunted through Beetle's landfill of a room and Booster's eerily neat one. 

It wouldn't exactly be accurate to say that he found _nothing_. He had found that the embassy was once again out of aspirin, the SOMEONE (probably Beetle) had dismantled the VCR, and that Booster had an extensive collection of magazines which he apparently did not pretend to buy "for the articles", as he had neatly razored out any page with more than ten words on it, presumably to conserve space on his bookshelves. Also, Batman had taken samples of a squat greens substance layering a sandwich in a dark corner of Beetle's closet, which he thought might be a new species of mold. 

So he had actually found quite a lot. But he had not found either Booster Gold or Blue Beetle. It was bat-aggravating. 

Batman crossed his arms and tapped a black-bound foot before turning heel, and striding down the hallway. He knocked on the oak door at the end of the hall and waited. 

"Come in," intoned a muffled voice, almost monotone, but with an odd cadence. 

Batman entered and found J'onn J'onzz, also known as the Martian Manhunter, sitting cross-legged in a sea of plastic grocery bags. The masses of flimsy white plastic covered the rug, huddled together on the chairs, and transformed the bed into a field of barely opaque plastic made to bulge by their contents. And Batman had a pretty good guess what those contents were. 

"Oreos, J'onn?" 

"Some of them contain milk," the green Martian said defensively, his thick brows gathering above his eyes as he tried to subtlely sweep the crumpled remains of several bags of oreos out of sight under his voluptuous blue cape. "You cannot have oreos without milk." 

"Uh huh." Batman entered, choosing his path carefully as the handles of the bags stretched towards his cape, prodded by static electricity. "I hear Blue and Gold did quite a number on your previous stash." 

J'onn was silent for a moment, his alien red eyes flashing briefly as he struggled through a myriad of emotions. He compulsively stuffed an oreo in his mouth and washed it down with a quick swig from the gallon jug of milk beside him. "I felt it was best if I spent some time in meditation before I saw them again. I would not like to do anything . . ." His mouth twisted very slightly beneath his milk mustache. " . . . that I woould later _regret."_

"That bad, eh?" 

"The supermarket was quite crowded. I was forced to stand in line for _forty-five minutes._ The woman directly in front of me," J'onn said with an unusual edge to his normally soft voice, "could not find her checkbook until she had cast most of the contents of her purse onto the conveyor belt." 

"Unfortunate." 

"Very. Oreo?" 

"No thanks, I don't." Eating oreos was inappropriate to his Dark Knight persona. "J'onn, I'm working on an investigation that you may have an interest in." 

J'onn raised a green eye-ridge in query but said nothing as he crunched away with one cheek bulging slightly. 

"I'm looking for our resident troublemakers, actually." 

The green brows lowered ominously as J'onn swallowed. "Booster and Beetle?" 

"Who else?" 

"Guy, G'nort, arguably L-Ron, sometimes Max--" 

"All right, point taken. In this case I did in fact mean Booster and Beetle, however." 

"I was planning on having a little chat with the boys anyway," the Martian said ominously. 

"I thought you might be." 

"You wish me to do a psychic scan for them?" J'onn queried. 

"Yes," Batman said. "As long as you're calm enough not to do anything to their brains," he added. 

"They have brains?" 

"I'm serious, J'onn." 

"You know I would not do such a thing," J'onn said in a reproachful voice. "Even over oreos." 

"No, I don't think you would. Then again, I didn't _think_ you'd use your powers for an April Fool's joke, either." 

"Ah . . ." Smiling gently, J'onn raised his eyes, as though the memory uplifted him. "But it was quite amusing to make Max think he was a duck for a day, and it did no permanent damage." 

"It was cute until he tried to fly off the roof." 

"That was unforeseen," J'onn admitted. 

"He was lucky he didn't break a wing." 

J'onn looked at him, his red eyes widening slightly. "A joke? From _you?"_

"Don't bother telling anyone, they'll never believe you," Batman said with his customary bat-glower. "Now where are our cookie thieves?" 

J'onn closed his eyes and tilted his head forward slightly, concentrating. "They are not in the building at all," he said after a minute, straightening. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive. They're probably laying low in some bar, planning their next idiotic, irresponsible--" 

"Can you check?" 

J'onn blinked. "What?" 

"Can you check to see if they're in a bar somewhere?" 

"Batman, that would require scanning the entire city." 

"I know." 

J'onn looked at him incredulously. "New York is a big place!" 

"And you have a big superpower." 

"A natural ability is hardly a 'superpower'," J'onn protested. "And Martians have always used telepathy." 

"Semantics. Stop stalling." 

"Very well. But I'm curious--have the boys finally topped the incident with the Batmobile and the paint?" 

Batman's lips curved into a rare and frightening smile. "I made them wax and wash it every day for month after that, you know. The car _shined_ under the streetlights. Not that it made a difference to me," he added hastily. 

"Of _course_ not," J'onn said. "Not to the _Dark Knight."_

"Exactly," Batman said stiffly. "Now then . . ." 

"I will look," J'onn said as he closed his eyes once more. His body bobbed slowly as he sat in midair, his legs crossed in the lotus position. His mind sifted through the tangle of emotions spread through the teaming city, telepathically rippling through wave upon wave of humanity. Anger, joy, pride, hate, indifference, happiness, fear, love . . . His mind glimpsed it all as he swept through their psyches, searching for the shape of two familiar minds. 

At last J'onn opened his eyes. For a minute more he was silent, his fingers drumming on his knee. At last he looked at Batman. "They are not in the city," he said. 

Batman nodded. "That's what I thought." 


	20. Chapter 19: Mistaken Identity

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

* * *

How they had survived the waterfall was open to debate, but survive it they had, only to find themselves swept along by the strong current that pulled a crease down the center of the green-black water. Finally, thanks in great part to the effort of the ponies, the beraggled group struggled to shore, leaning weakly against one another for support. 

"River take Munchy's ribbons," the pale yellow pony said sadly, despite the fact that the most tightly knotted of her finery still drooped from her mane and tail. 

"On the up side," Beetle said, "you smell a lot better now." He ignored the mare's reproachful look and instead hooked his thumb under his cowl and pulled it forward slightly, enough to allow the water to drain out of his goggles. Booster remained standing in the river, ankle deep, with his arms held slightly away from his body and his shoulders hunched, mute and pathetic. 

"Don't expect any condolences just because you're standing there dripping like a wet cat," Omen said unsympathetically, pawing his sopping wet forelock out of his eyes. "We're all just as wet as _you_ are." As if the emphasize the point, he snapped his waterlogged tail. Booster winced as he was sprayed by the flecks of icy water. 

"I feel like . . . like . . ." Beetle searched for the right words. "Like someone who's fallen into a river and gone over a waterfall. Oh, WAIT--" 

"Don't forget the part where we were nearly _trampled_ to death," Booster said sulkily, stalking out of the water with sloshing footsteps. 

"If only I could, Booster. If only I could." 

The little group picked a swerving path through the trees as they worked their way away from the river. It was a measure of their exhaustion that they ended up blindly and unquestioningly following Munchy, as her pale green eyes adjusted to the darkness surprisingly well. Perhaps more surprisingly, she led them to a small clearing swaying with long, sideways-swept meadow grass that looked like a relatively comfortable place to camp. 

Omen gave a sigh of relief as he sank down on his front knees, turning his head to work at the straps of the two saddlebags which, miraculously, had remained secure. Beetle flopped backwards onto the soft grass. Munchy turned in a circle a few times, creating an impromptu nest before curling up with her tail around her nose. And Booster simply sank slowly to the ground like a marionette being lowered to the floor. 

Without further comment, all four lapsed into slumber. 

Booster woke up an hour later, much to his annoyance. He was still exhausted and he ached all over, but his sopping wet uniform made him itch all over and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he did something about it. He could sleep through shouts and alarms well enough, but personal discomfort was another matter. 

Booster unclipped the metallic wrist blasters from around each wrist, then struggled out of the top half of his form-fitting costume with some difficulty, almost getting stuck with his elbow in his sleeve at one point, but at last awkwardly pulling it over his head. He turned the garment right side out and held it in front of him as water dripped from its wrinkled surface. Booster made a short, anxoious sound as he smoothed the slightly elastic fabric over his knees, running his fingers over the blue and yellow material, checking for rips or tears. If his uniform was damaged . . . He traced the blue star on the front of his costume . . . If his uniform was damaged, then he was finished as a superhero. Almost all his powers came from the advanced microweave technology in his suit, and the rest came from his flight ring. 

"Too bad I can't use any of it here _anyway,"_ he muttered. "Could be broken already for all I know . . ." He sighed, then stood up, glancing at the overhanging trees. Maybe he could let his shirt drip dry on a branch. He navigated carefully around his sleeping comrades and had just congratulated himself on clearing any and all obstacles when he tripped over something heavy and bulky. Booster bit back a 25th century swear word as he picked himself off the ground and turned to see what he had stumbled over. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that it was one of Omen's saddlebags, now overturned and spilling its contents onto the flat, lichen-covered rock it had been resting on. 

The blond-haired superhero hesitated, then crouched down and pulled the bulky leather bag upright. Resting his elbows on his knees, he reached down, relying half on sight and half on feeling to examine the pale shape that had spilled out of the bag. Clothing! Pony clothing, he corrected himself with lesser enthusiasm, picking up the garment and holding it between his outstretched arms. It reminded him of the things he'd seen in drawings of medieval knights, draped over their horses. But these outfits were clearly better tailored and at the same time less practical than those belonging to the steeds of King Arthur and company, being made of silk and frilled with lace and gold thread. 

Booster dug through the saddlebag further, his curiosity thoroughly piqued, and as he wrested another mass of ruffles out, he couldn't help but notice that the vast majority of the outfits in the bag were what humans would term dresses. Pony dresses, but dresses, nonetheless. 

Well, to each his own. If living five centuries before his birth had taught Booster anything, it was that the principles and priorities of one culture were not necessarily the same as those of another. He had noticed several stallions wearing ribbons in their tails both in the courtroom and at the birthday party; crossdressing could be just as common, for all he knew. 

All the same . . . he thoughtfully eyed a sleek, scarlet garment reminiscent of an evening dress . . . it was hard to believe that Omen could actually squeeze into these things without straining the fabric or immodestly bursting the seams. Then again, modesty was probably a relative concept in a species that normally walked around nude. 

As he reflected on equine society, the superhero continued digging through the saddlebags. The clothing had been folded and compressed to occupy an amazingly small amount of space, Booster noted as he tossed aside a garment that had exploded into a tangle of chiffon and ribbons with only a few good shakes. 

The pile of pony clothes next to him was slightly higher than his head by the time he neared the bottom of the bag (but that wasn't _so_ high since he was sitting down.) He scooped up a neatly folded square of varying greens, grasped the soft fabric at what he guessed was the top of the garment, and held it up so that the layers of material fell to its full length, unfolding itself. 

Booster blinked in surprise. "Well, I _know_ he couldn't stuff himself into _this."_ The outfit was clearly made for a human or something with a similar physique. 

Booster tilted his head. It reminded him of something Robin Hood would wear. Or Green Arrow. Come to think of it, Green Arrow had probably based his costume _on_ Robin Hood's. Anyway, the outfit looked well-made and comfortable and, unlike Booster's costume, dry. 

The Corporate Crusader came to a decision. 

As is the way with wet clothes, he didn't fully appreciate how uncomfortable they were until he'd pulled them off, sitting down to pull off his soft blue boots and rolling off his gold tights (for lack of a more dignified term) and dropping them beside him in a damp, crumpled heap. He had found something that resembled boxer shorts (sort of) in the saddlebags and although they were plain white cotton (not at _all_ the kind of undergarment Booster would have gone for if he had a choice), he traded them for his own more colorful underwear before wiggling into the forest green pants. 

And it _did_ take some wiggling. Apparently Robin Hood's tailor, like the unofficial (but stringently followed) superhero dresscode, believed in making clothing as sadistically tight as possible. After Booster had slowly taken a few paces back and forth and tentatively stretched his legs a few times just to reassure himself that his circulation wasn't _completely_ cut off, he turned around to reach for the matching green shirt and vest. 

He froze as he was met with a pair of glowing eyes and two sharp rows of snarling teeth. 

For an instant Booster remained motionless with his arm outstretched, those jagged teeth and glowing green eyes encompassing his world. Then his focus shifted to the creature behind them and he relaxed. 

"Munchy? What are you doing up?" 

The pony's only reply was a low, ominous growl as she crouched, her head lowered ferally as she stared at him wild-eyed. 

"Uh . . . Munchy?" Booster began to tense up again. "Hey--it's me." 

If anything, her snarl grew. "Me who?" 

"What do you mean, 'me who'?? ME!" 

She moved suddenly, circling him with flowing, feral strides as she stared at him with an unnerving, unwavering gaze. "You hunting Munchy!" 

"Why would I be hunting you?" Booster asked, at a loss. "I've been _helping_ you, remember?" 

Munchy's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How you help I Munchy?" 

"Well, uh . . ." Booster tried to think of some helpful things that he, specifically, had done, while at the same time recalling scenes from the end of _Old Yeller._ Insane, rabid, cannibalistic pony. Just what he needed. "I . . . I tied on all those _ribbons,_ remember?" 

The pony's tail lashed violently. "You lie! That not you, that _Boo-ster!"_ Munchy automatically glanced over her shoulder at the soft grass where the superhero had been sleeping earlier and suddenly her eyes went wide with shock and fear. "Where IS Booster?" 

"Uh . . ." The superhero went slack-jawed for an instant. 

Munchy's focus swung back to him and suddenly he found himself scrambling backwards through the darkness as she advanced, baring her teeth. "WHERE BOOSTER??" 

"He's here! He's here!" He panicked as he felt the rough bark of a pine tree biting into his unrprotected back. 

Munchy's head swung from side to side. "Where? What you do with him?" 

"Nothing! Munchy, don't you _recognize_ me??" 

Munchy seemed to calm down slightly as she leaned back a little, studying the human in front of her. "Who you, that I Munchy should recognize?" 

"Booster! I'm Booster!" 

_"You??"_ The pony scoffed openly. "You not look anything like him Booster! You think I Munchy stupid?" 

"No, not at all!" Insane maybe, but not stupid. "What do you mean I don't look like Booster? I do look like--I mean, I _am_ Booster!" 

"You must think I Munchy stupid as a bushwoolie," Munchy said scornfully. "You not look like Booster at ALL. Booster blue and yellow, not green and peach." 

Booster was floored. His mouth worked silently as he processed this remark. "But . . . Munchy, no, _I'm_ not blue and--That's my _costume._ My _costume_ is blue and yellow!" 

"I Munchy not know about _cos-tumes_, but she know about _lies."_

"No, but really, I can show you--" Booster took a step forward, then scrambled back as Munchy's jaws snapped in front of him. "Okay . . . all right . . . okay . . . But, um, look at my _face,_ all right? Doesn't it look familiar?" he asked pleadingly. 

Munchy glanced at his face indifferently, shrugging. "Two-legs all look same." 

"Well, _that_ seems vaguely offensive," Booster muttered. 

Munchy stretched and yawned purposefully, showing off the serrated edges of her broken teeth. "I Munchy think maybe a nice midnight snack, then back to sleep." She advanced with casual, lazy steps, but her sharp green eyes followed Booster's every move as he inched around the tree trunk pressed against his back. She kept pace with him easily, keeping him trapped behind her and the tree. _Great._

Booster gulped. "Now . . . Munchy . . . don't do anything you might regret--" 

"I Munchy not regretting this at _all."_

"Oh, good," said Booster weakly. His eyes flicked around rather desperately as the pony stalked closer; suddenly, his gaze fixed on the tree branch just above his head--or to be more exact, something _hanging_ from the tree branch above his head. 

With a mental sigh of relief and one swift motion, he swept his brightly hued shirt down from the branch. "There!" he said, holding it out to display to Munchy. "You _see?"_

His first inkling that this might be a bad idea came when Munchy stopped in her tracks with an expression of utter horror, her green eyes widening as she let out a wail. "YOU SKIN BOOSTER??" 

Booster gaped, drew both his hands and the garment back, and shook his head with increasing fervor. "No! No no no, I--" 

"You skin poor Boos-ter! I Munchy--I Munchy--" She stalled, sputtering on her anger. 

"No! I didn't skin anything! _I'm--"_

"They never find your bones, stupid elf!" 

Booster leaned back, barely avoiding her snapping jaws. "Mun-chy, stop! Stop. Stop. No, look--" He made himself take a step towards her, despite the fact that his fight-or-flight response was quite loudly screaming for flight. Fortunately, Munchy paused to give him a suspicious glower instead of immediately biting a chunk out of his flesh. 

Booster stretched his costume between his hands. "This isn't skin, see?" he said slowly, carefully, as if explaining something to a child. 

"It is! It look just like Booster's!" Munchy contested hotly, blinking angrily. 

"Munchy . . . Munchy no, it's something extra we wear like . . . like your ribbons." 

Her only answer was a glare, but there seemed to be an edge of uncertainty to it. 

"Munchy . . . " Booster considered. "Munchy, look." He caught collar of his shirt under his chin and the sleeves in either hand and spread his arms so that the elastic material spread across his chest, displaying a slightly wrinkled blue star against a vibrant yellow background. Still holding down the top of his costume with his chin, Booster glanced upward. _"Now_ do you see?" 

Munchy looked, rubbed clumsily at her face with a hoof, and looked again. Her eyes shifted uncertainly from the material covering Booster's torso to his leafgreen pants. She took a step or two to the side, examining the contrast between the loose edge of the yellow and blue fabric and the pale beigy-pink skin visible at Booster's ribs and back. Then she sidestepped until she was _directly_ in front of him and fixed her green eyes intently on the hopeful blue eyes peering over the stretch of blue and yellow and under a fringe of blond hair. 

"Boos . . ter?" 

"That's right," he encouraged, but she still seemed unsure. 

She took a step back, then a step forward, glaring at him almost defiantly, nose to nose . . . 

And then she abruptly tilted her head, rammed her nose into his armpit, and snuffed. 

Booster let out a shriek, flailing as he tried to push her tickling muzzle away. Fortunately, she straightened almost immediately, looking joyous. 

"Booster, it IS being you! You smell just the SAME!" 

"Oh . . . hoorah," he managed, using the tree for support as he flopped an arm across his forehead. 

Munchy suddenly looked stricken. "I Munchy almost EAT you!" 

"Yeah, well--" 

"I MUNCHY IS SO SORRY!!!" she wailed. "Bad BAD Munchy!" 

"Shhhh, the others are still sleeping and--Munchy, no, it's _okay!"_

"No, it not okay! It not!" Her lower lip trembled. "I Munchy almost eat you and now you not like Munchy anymore again!" 

"That's not true, I--hey now, don't cry." Booster slid a hand through his blond hair in frustration as the pony sat with her shoulders hunched and her head lowered. "I still do like you." 

"Really?" Munchy sniffled. 

"Really." He was slightly surprised to find this was true; he _did_ like her, even if her eating habits still thoroughly unnerved him. 

Munchy scrubbed at her face with a hoof as she glanced cautiously sideways and Booster smiled encouragingly at her. For a few minutes the only sounds were the crickets chirping in the thickets and the yellow pony's receding sniffles. 

"Munchy very, very sorry she try to eat Booster." 

"I . . . uh, thanks." 

Munchy frowned at her hooves for a few minutes, then looked up brightly. "I know how I Munchy make it up to you! Munchy give you Booster a present!" 

"You really don't have to--what kind of present?" 

"Ribbon!" Munchy beamed proudly. 

"Oh . . . wow." Booster sounded less than enthused as he watched Munchy biting and tugging at a tightly knotted pink ribbon around her back leg. "You know what? You REALLY don't have to do that." 

"You Booster get pretty ribbon," Munchy said indistinctly, nibbling at the knot. 

"No, really . . . You can keep it, Munchy. I don't _want_ a--" 

Munchy swung to look at him, upset. "I MUNCHY KNEW IT!! YOU HATE MUNCHY!!" 

"No, no, I--" 

"Then why you not accept Munchy's ribbon? You not believe Munchy sorry??" 

"I _do_ believe it, Munchy, it's just that . . ." He gave up. "You know what? A ribbon sounds . . . really great. I can . . . tie it around lots of things, and . . . um, yeah." 

"You WEAR ribbon, Boos-ter," Munchy explained to him, all smiles again. "I Munchy show you!" 

Booster sighed. Beetle was never going to let him live this one down. 


	21. Chapter 20: To Build a Fire

_**Chapter Twenty**_

Beetle woke up to the gentle rays of dawn, a cheerful chorus of birdsong, and Omen's wrathful screams. He squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter behind his goggles, willing himself to wake up again and discover, Alice-like, that it had all been a dream.

"--expensive clothes left out all NIGHT in the open and, oh Great Rainbow, he's wearing one of them, WEARING it! "

"Shut up, stupid hairy pony! I Munchy say Booster do what he wants with cloth thing! Why you carry around if not to use, eh?"

"Because a collector would pay thousands of dollars for a genuine archer outfit sewn by the Llothi'en elves, you stupid nag! It's in mint condition--or it WAS before that bipedal idiot decided to start sweating in it!"

A flashback, Beetle thought. Yes, that was it, it could all be a hallucinogenic flashback brought on by a history of drug abuse. The only setback was that he didn't _have_ a history of drug abuse. Damn.

"You take one step closer and I Munchy _chew off your face!"_

"Bring it on, you flea-bitten--"

Beetle decided he'd better intercede before something unfortunate happened, like him being trampled to death in the impending battle. Stretching his arms, he sat up with an exaggerated yawn. "What seems to be the problem, boys and girls? Or . . . whatever."

"He try to take away Boo-ster's cloth things!"

"It's clothing, _clothing_, you sorry excuse for a pony!"

"Do _not_ let him take off his clothes, we'll never get them on again," Beetle said hurriedly, pushing a gloved finger under his goggles to squeegee away the condensation gathered on them. (All the Leaguers had long since discovered that Booster Gold was the model of 25th century modesty, meaning he didn't have any.) Rewarded with a view that was merely foggy instead of blurred beyond recognition, he still had to look twice to make sure it was Booster, not Green Arrow, curled up on the mossy ground nearby. As he watched, the blond stretched and rolled over in his sleep with a disgustingly contented sigh.

"He could sleep through an earthquake, volcano, and alien invasion simultaneously, I swear," Beetle said to no one in particular. Booster _appeared_ to have _ribbons_ pulling his hair into little blond puffs, but Ted couldn't be sure with the state his goggles were in. He swiftly considered and rejected the thought of asking the ponies for an explanation; it would almost certainly be more entertaining dragging the knowledge out of a reluctant Booster. _Ribbons._ Oh, for a camera . . . not that it would work in this place anyway.

"Clothes, huh?" Beetle rummaged through the pile of dew-soaked outfits that Booster had indeed left out all night (although, to be fair, he had at least folded them and left them in a neat stack.)

_"Valuable_ clothes. _Expensive_ clothes," Omen hinted.

_"Clean_ clothing. _Dry_ clothing," Beetle returned cheerfully. Then he paused. "Wait a minute . . . dry clothing? Why is it--?" "The saddlebags are enchanted, naturally," Omen said, as though it should be obvious. "Against rain, sleet, snow, rivers--HEY, put that down!" "No can do, Mr. Ed," Beetle said as he selected garments of a soft, cottony fabric. He abandoned the clearing and Omen's increasingly loud complaints about disrespect, pushing through the trees until he found a mass of scrubby bushes to change behind.

Beetle had chosen the black clothes mainly because they looked comfortable and about the right size, but he couldn't help but grin when he saw he'd picked a _ninja_ outfit. Chuckling, he exchanged his top and tights for leggings, bound securely from the ankle to the knee, and a long-sleeved vest. He wished he had a mirror . . . although even if he had one, his goggles were still fogged up . . .

Beetle raised a hand to take off his mask.

* * *

Booster _would_ wake on his own, given enough time, and to demonstrate this he eventually sat up in an intricate and lengthy yawn that displayed his throat, tonsils, and the little hanging-down thingie at the back of his throat. As his arms sunk back to his sides, Booster smacked his lips at the wooly taste of morning, scrubbing a hand across his sleep-bleared eyes. Slowly, a large white pony with purple hair came into focus. It was glaring at him.

Booster stared vaguely at a blue sky interrupted by pine trees as his brain foggily rehashed the events of the previous day. He scratched an itch on his left calf.

"Where's Munchy, then?" he asked finally.

"Out in the woods," Omen said sourly. "Trying to kill something."

"And where's Beetle?" Booster hoped the answer wouldn't have to do with being chased in the woods by Munchy.

"He's been gone about an hour. I hope a mountain lion ate him."

"Well!" Booster sat up straight with indignation. _"I_ don't!" Aware that this was not the snappiest of comebacks, he hurriedly added, "Don't worry, I'll find him!"

"I'm _not_ worried," said Omen, who wasn't.

Booster trotted out of the clearing without reply, stifling another jaw-creaking yawn.

As he picked his way through the brush, Booster noted the lack of cavorting deer, bears, wolves, and bunnies with disappointment; a forest, as he understood it, was a bunch of trees stuck together with animals filling in the gaps. This forest was clearly subpar, with only boring brown birds tittering and hopping in the trees.

Booster stopped suddenly, listening. From his right, behind a scratchy screen of bushes came a steady growl, a low grumble that occasionally rose to a higher, angrier octave. What could it be? A bear? A mountain lion? With a great deal of excitement and a characteristic disregard for personal safety, Booster pushed through the bushes. To his disappointment, it was only Ted.

The Blue Beetle didn't notice his best friend at first, probably because he appeared to be trying to pull his own head off. Booster gaped at his best friend, who had one arm looped over his head and hooked under his goggles while the other hand was stuck halfway under his mask. Reeling, Ted jerked continuously at the blue, bug-eyed mask, twice accidentally poking himself in the eye. The growling sound was now discernable as swearing.

"Uh . . . Beetle?" the blond ventured.

"WHAT!"

Booster took a step back. "Nothing, I just . . . I see you found some clothes. A ninja, huh? Cool."

Ted growled in response, face red with exertion as he tried to drag the mask around sideways.

After a minute of respectful silence, Booster ventured, "Do you need any help?"

Beetle cast a wild glare at him from behind the condensation on his goggles. "Does it look like I need help!"

"The thought crossed my mind." "Very perceptive," Beetle snapped, sinking his fingers into the blue material above the goggles and dragging it down until his eyes were nearly out of sight.

"I don't get it, what's wrong with your mask?"

Blue Beetle pulled his hands away from his face and the material that had been gathered around his fingers snapped back into place. "Let's see, maybe I'm doing this to pass the time . . . or MAYBE I can't get it OFF, hmmm?"

"You're no fun when you're sarcastic. Why not?"

"The strap under the chin only comes off if the electronic circuitry in my gloves _releases_ it."

"Um . . . whyyy?"

"To prevent villains from pulling it off and figuring out my secret identity, okay!"

"Do they want to?"

"Of course they want to! That's what supervillains _do!_ Why do you think we have secret identities in the first place?"

"I _don't_ have one."

"Only because you don't know any better."

"Nyah to you too." Booster tilted his head sideways to examine the strip of blue material, lined with black, under Beetle's chin. Sure enough, there was a small oval of black the size of a thumbprint, textured differently from the rest of the mask. "I still don't see the big deal. Your gloves are right over there, in the pile with the rest of your costume."

"Booster." Beetle picked up a blue glove and waved it under his friend's nose. "You see this glove?"

"Yeees . . ."

"It has circuitry in the fingertips, all right? And you see this mask?"

"Yeees . . . "

"It has circuitry in its strap. So what do these two things have in common?" He gestured from the mask ensnaring his head to the glove in his hand while Booster hesitated.

"Cir . . . circuitry?"

"RIGHT, Booster! Good job, you get a gold star."

"Goldstar?" Booster murmured in confusion, looking around for more superheroes. Beetle ignored him and continued.

"And do you know what makes circuitry work, Booster?"

Booster beamed at being asked such an easy question. "No!"

Beetle stared at him for a minute through his fogged goggles. "That's right, you don't. But _in general_ you know what makes circuits work, don't you?" he persisted.

"Computers?" "A _broader_ definition, please." "I dunno . . . science?" Booster paused as the light of understanding dawned. "Oh . . . _ohhh."_

"I hate this place," Beetle said with a slight note of bitterness in his voice. "How did you get _your_ suit off? Isn't the top held to the tights with magnetization?"

"I don't wear _tights."_

Beetle gave him a look which his fogged goggles did nothing to soften. "Gold. Shiny. Skintight. Tights."

"I didn't have any trouble," Booster said, pretending not to hear. "Magnets must work here."

"But they're based on scientific principles too," Beetle objected. _"Muscles_ work on scientific principles! _Gravity_ works on scientific principles! All I've heard since I got here is 'Science doesn't wooork, science doesn't wooork,' but _I_ haven't been floating away, have YOU?"

While Booster tried to decide how to respond to Ted's ravings, Munchy trotted into the clearing with her jaws clamped around a huge fish. She spat it out proudly, announcing, "I Munchy find breakfast!"

Both superheroes turned to regard her. As his stomach growled to remind him he hadn't eaten since the lunch the previous day, Blue Beetle decided that his goggles were a secondary concern compared with his empty stomach.

With similar feelings, Booster enthusiastically praised the pony. "Good JOB, Munchy!" he said as he backed out of the way of the flopping fish.

"I Munchy mighty hunter," the yellow pony boasted, tossing her mane so that it flopped heavily against her neck under the weight of her sodden ribbons.

"You certainly are," Beetle said as he tried to avoid the bulging, accusing eye of the fish. "How do you usually eat fish, Munchy? Fried? Sauteed?"

Her brow furrowed. "With mouth."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. _This_ fish," Ted said firmly, "is going to be _cooked."_

As neither Beetle nor Booster knew any woodcraft (or, indeed, had ever been camping aside from one brief and ill-fated official Justice League vacation), starting the fire proved to be difficult. Or perhaps impossible.

"Are you _sure_ this is how the Indians started fires?" Booster asked dubiously, crouching beside Ted. "I mean, sticks . . . sticks don't _burst into flame_ all by themselves."

"You're missing the _point,"_ Beetle said as he continued rubbing his palms in opposite directions, causing the stick caught between them to twirl rapidly, its end resting on top of a pile of bark, twigs, and pine needles. "It's all based on _friction._ Once the friction generates enough heat, it'll catch fire. It's scientific fact."

Booster gave him a long, meaningful look.

"It _will_ work," Ted said.

"Only it doesn't seem to be," Booster ventured, glancing from the stick to the would-be tinder.

"This is the right way," Ted insisted. "I saw it in a movie once. Why don't you make yourself useful, huh? Clean the fish or something."

Booster half-shrugged and wandered away to check on the fish, which Munchy had taken down to the river. Now deceased, it floated sadly in the shallow water, its scales scraping against pebbles with every wave.

"This silly," Munchy complained when she saw Booster. Her hoof was pinning the fish's tail against the riverbed so it wouldn't float away. "No more flopping from fishie, why not just toss on shore?"

"The water keeps it cooler and fresher," Booster explained. "And that makes it taste better."

Beraggled ribbons trailed as Munchy tossed her coral mane. "Hu-mans take too long."

"Ted'll have the fire started soon," Booster said with more optimism than he felt. "So let's clean the fish and get it ready."

Critical green eyes examined the salmon. "It already clean. It in water."

Booster, whose mind had been running along similar lines, just shrugged. "Well, but it might have grit or something on it. Hold it up."

After Munchy dunked her head and came up with the fish's tail clamped between her teeth, the Corporate Crusader took off his elven shoes, rolled up the cuffs of his tight elven pants, and waded into the lapping river. Dead, the fish looked more accusing than ever, but he put it out of his mind while he simultaneously tried to think of a way to get the fish clean and ignore the smell. Finally he settled for scooping up water in his bare hands and letting it run over the fish as it gently swayed from side to side.

"There, now it's clean," he said, wiping his hands off on his pants. "As clean as it's going to get, anyway." A quick glance at the hill above revealed Ted still hunched determinedly over his sticks. "Any time now. Fire."

"I Munchy not want to stand all day with fish in mouth," the pony objected between clenched teeth.

Booster's blue eyes flicked from side to side, looking for inspiration and finding a longish stick. Picking it up, he turned it in his hands slowly as a smile grew on his face. "Hang on a sec, Munchy." He planted himself on a rock beside the river and, picking up a sharp-edged stone, started hacking at the end of the branch. "It's a _spit,_" Booster said proudly, leaning his head back to admire his handiwork. "We just, uh, impale the fish on the sharp end, you see? And then, then as soon as Ted has the fire ready, we'll put the stick above the campfire to cook it!"

The tip of Munchy's tail cast ripples on the water as it flicked from side to side. Still unsure about the very concept of cooking, she asked, "What holds up stick, above fire?"

"Oh, rocks or something," Booster said vaguely. "C'mon, bring it over."

Perhaps out of vengeance for its untimely demise, the fish was not about to cooperate; although pushing its mouth over the sharpened end of the stick proved easy enough, Booster's hands slid ineffectively over its slippery skin when he tried to shove the rest of the fish onto the spit. Finally, after a lot of cursing and tugging, it slid onto the stick so abruptly that Booster almost stabbed himself as the sharp end of the spit came bursting through the scales.

The blond tilted his head to examine their handiwork. The fish hung halfway off the spit, tail hanging despondantly, thanks to the stick erupting out of the right side of the belly instead of going straight through. Still, it was well and truly stuck on the stick and that, Booster told himself, was what mattered.

"Come on, Munchy," he said, "let's see how Ted's doing with that fire."

* * *

After Omen got over his initial annoyance that the supposed "breakfast" consisted of something as disgusting and inedible as flesh, the spectacle of Blue Beetle struggling to start a fire cheered the white Clydesdale enormously.

The ongoing struggle had effected Ted in a less positive manner. He muttered to himself. He scrubbed furiously at his goggles. He swore. As Booster and Munchy entered the clearing, he was busy stomping wrathfully on a stick he considered subpar.

Omen nodded cheerfully to the newcomers. Ted stopped kicking the now tiny bits of wood long enough to look at the inexpertly impaled fish that the blonde carried. "What on earth did you do to that fish? You were supposed to _clean_ it!"

"We did," answered Booster, who now smelled uncomfortably fishy himself. "After we washed it off, we made a spit to put over the fire." He looked at Ted expectantly, clearly anticipating praise.

Beetle looked at the fish, which still had its head and tail and, he was sure all of its bones. But he felt too weary to debate the various definitions of cleaning. "Well, the fire isn't ready yet. You'd better stick it back in the water."

"When is fire to be ready?" Munchy asked, eyeing the pile of tinder duboiusly. "This take long time!"

"I only need a few more minutes," Ted said, crouching to add more pine needles.

"He's been saying that for the past hour and a half," Omen said in a loud whisper. Ted pointedly ignored him, rearranging the speckled rocks that circled the makeshift firepit.

"I've been eating leaves, myself," the stallion continued. "Not my fare of choice, but fugitives can't be choosers, ha ha! The raspberries were delicious, actually."

Booster's gaze swung in the direction that Omen gestured, then returned to Blue Beetle. "Maaaybe I'll just go pick some just in case," he said.

Ted's eyes narrowed. "I _will_ start a damn fire."

"Of course you will. Yes. And raspberries will make a wonderful . . . garnish . . . for the salmon." Booster edged out of sight amongst the trees.

Beetle went back to work, growling. After several intense moments when he'd almost convinced himself that he saw smoke, sat back on his heels, wishing his mask would come off and trying to plan his next attempt. Omen, whose high spirits seemed to have an inverse relation to Ted's low ones, was actually conversing with Munchy, in a manner.

"No, actually you _can_ start a fire without lightning if you have the right equipment. Flint and steel, for example."

"So? Why you no have some? You Omen lose in river?"

"Oh no, I still have it," Omen said brightly, flashing a blindingly white smile. "It's in my bags."

Booster returned with a Robin Hood hat full of raspberries just in time to see Ted shrieking and trying to throttle Omen, who was practically on his knees not from the assault, but from laughter. Munchy, unsure who to root for, gave the blond a bewildered shrug.

Eventually Booster managed to pull Ted back and calm him down, with some help from Munchy. (Booster told him that Munchy would sit on him if he didn't behave.)

Meanwhile, Omen had gone for his flint and steel with a clear smirk. "That's what you get for sweating on my merchandise," he told Blue Beetle, but his rancor seemed to have faded now that he'd found the superhero to be a prime source of entertainment.

"Next time you have something useful, SAY something," Beetle admonished, pausing to wipe his goggles once more as he struck the black, glossy flint against the rectangle of steel. Sparks dizzily leapt from with each strike, but most fizzled out in mid-air and the few that landed on the tinder quickly winked out. "I mean, we could've been out of here _hours_ ago if you'd just . . . Ah, _there_ it goes." Beetle cupped his hands protectively around a miniscule prickle of flame that quickly grew to eat along the brittle pine needle it had landed on. "Bring the fish over here, we won't be long now."

Booster hurriedly built unsteady stacks of flattish stones on either side of the firepit and laid the spit across it while the Blue Beetle encouraged the fire with more brittle twigs and dead leaves. Omen watched indifferently, Munchy with a furrowed brow and the air of a kindergartner watching an example of advanced calculus.

Despite the delays, annoyances, and frustration, Ted had a proud smile on his face as he turned to the others. "Now _that's_ what I call a fire," he said, gesturing to the neat blaze in the ring of stones.

It was then that they discovered that river rocks, when heated, explode.


	22. Chapter 21: Too Close to Nature

Shards of rocks blasted in every direction. It was only thanks to quick reflexes and an abundance of undergrowth that no one was hurt. Four pairs of eyes (equine and human) peeked over a thick, prickly bush as the last bits of rock rained down on patches of guttering flames.

"Fish is overrated," Booster commented thoughtfully, breaking a lengthy silence which then resumed as he walked down to the river to scoop up a hatful of water. After the blond had dumped them on the sad, sullen remains of the fire, Blue Beetle stomped on the ashes with rather more force than was necessary to prevent forest fires and kicked dirt over them.

"Yes, definitely overrated," Booster repeated more cheerfully after they'd settled down to gorge on raspberries (carried in Booster's Robin Hood hat, which was now red and sticky on the inside as well as soaking wet.) "Smelly and floppy and kind of gross . . . Oh, cheer up, Ted."

"Fish not so bad," said Munchy, who'd slurped down the half-raw, half-burnt salmon with nauseating relish. "Where we go now, Boo-ster?"

"Well," Booster said, and looked at Ted.

Beetle plucked at his mask in in half-hearted annoyance. "Will the ponies from the castle come after us?"

Omen shrugged his broad white shoulders. "I doubt your worth it."

"And what about you? Equally unworthy?"

"Ha ha. I'm not worried.

Booster's expression became thoughtful as he crafted each word with slow deliberation. "I think," he said, "that we should go somewhere where we can buy food." He looked around at the group. "Instead of relying on berries and, you know, _fish."_

"Great Rainbow, _yes,"_ Omen agreed instantly. "I'm starving."

"Starving? You ate half the berries!" Ted accused.

"I'm bigger than you are, two-legs."

"Fat, hairy pony," Munchy interjected helpfully.

"Why don't you eat leaves if you're hungry?" Blue Beetle asked. "Or grass?

The stallion stared at him. "Leaves? _Grass?"_

"Horses eat grass," Booster said knowledgeably. "I saw them at the fair."

"There's no such thing as 'horses'," Omen rolled his eyes. "And no self-respecting pony would eat grass. Look--" He pawed at the ground. "Anything down there is bound to be covered in dirt. And leaves? Two words--bird poop."

"Then what _do_ you eat?" Ted demanded, half-curious, half-exasperated.

"Cakes, pies, cookies, candy, cruffles, cakes--did I already say that? And a salad once in a while. That's what _normal_ ponies eat," he added with a pointed look at Munchy. She spat a few fishbones in his direction and seemed to enjoy watching him recoil.

"So where we go?" she asked.

"Are there any towns around here, Omen? Where they won't want to arrest us?"

His ears twitched in thought. "There's a small elfin settlement to the northwest. They don't talk to ponies except to trade supplies, they won't be looking for you. But . . ."

"But what?" asked Booster, but Omen just shrugged and pulled himself to his feet.

"Nothing. Let's go."

They picked a path through the trees, Omen in the lead, trampling a path through the undergrowth. Occasionally small woodland animal would scamper out of the bushes or flutter down from the branches and gambol around them . . . briefly.

"I Munchy like sparrows best!" the meat-decorated pony crowed, spitting out a few feathers.

"The animals around here sure are friendly," Booster said loudly from Munchy's back, trying to drown out her happy crunchings.

"Elves feed small woodland animals," Omen explained. "You know how they are--'rapport with the beasts, communing with nature,' and all that."

"Whereas we're feeding _off_ the woodland creatures," Beetle remarked, watching Munchy gallop past in hot pursuit of a squirrel as Booster clutched her mane and ribbons for dear life. "So . . . why don't the ponies visit the elves, if they're so friendly towards animals?"

"What do animals have to do with ponies?"

"Erm. Nothing. What are elves like?" Tedasked.

"Oh, they're trustworthy, noble, et cetera. But . . ." Omen blew his purple forelock out of his eyes as he searched for the right words. "Elves are best _in small doses."_

"Ah."

"They get on your nerves."

"I see."

"In fact, I'd rather not go into their village myself. I'll supply the money, you'll get the food, how about that?"

"That sounds fine, fine. Are you sure you have enough money left, though? I mean, you did lose that saddlebag in the river . . ." As Omen's eyes slid to him, Beetle held up a gold coin. Sunlight gleamed dully on its face, highlighting a roughly molded unicorn rearing rampant.

"I never go travelling without a little extra," Omen said.

"Oh, good." They kept alert as they walked, due to Munchy's habit of running back and forth across their route, snapping at small creatures, although it was true that Booster's shrieks and screams gave a fair amount of warning. "I don't remember you having saddlebags when I first met you," Beetle said after a while.

"Hm? Oh . . . yes, I found them later."

"That was lucky."

"Yes."

"You must have found them sometime after Booster fell through that hole."

"Hole?"

"Yes. A hole. In the roof of this room full of treasure." Ted picked up a branch and idly whacked at the bushes as he strolled by them. "You know. Jewels and silk and such. And a pile of gold coins."

Omen was eyeing him with narrowed eyes and a calculating look; Ted stopped and wheeled towards him.

"Look, I don't approve of what you did, but we're _all_ fugitives here. And we're all going to suffer if we get swarmed by elves with pitchforks and torches because you weren't honest with us."

"What makes you think I have a problem with--"

"Oh please! 'I don't feel like going into town, I'll just stay in the woods'--yeah, _right._You're a cityboy if ever I saw one. Look, if you wait, it's going to be too late, but if you tell us the problem _now--"_

"HELP, HELP, AIEEEEE!" Booster and Munchy tore into view with a band of elves brandishing spears hot on their heels.

"--then it'llstill betoo late."


	23. Chapter 22: Romps in the Woods

_**Chapter : Romps in the Woods**_

Booster Gold would tell anyone who would listen that he was a man of many talents and most people who'd met him would acknowledge that he probably had _several_. None of these, however, included riding. In fact, animals were uncommon in the 25th century, unless you counted the six legged things with tooth covered elbows that prowled through the radioactive wastelands. But Booster had never seen such creatures, which perhaps explained why he still liked animals.

Even so, he currently felt that animals had room for improvement. For example, he thought as tree branches slapped at him and the earth juddered in time to each painful bump of his tailbone, they could be _better padded_ and _less knobbly._

He wasn't screaming anymore, not since he'd swallowed that fly. Instead he clung miserably to Munchy's neck and tried to ignore the heavings of his stomach.

"Elves fast," Munchy commented. Booster said nothing, not wanting to distract her as she dodged each pine tree rushing towards them, her body twisting to change direction almost before her hooves hit the ground with each leap. But whenever his eyes flicked sideways, rushing figures appeared in brief flashes through a screen of trees. Figures with spears. 

Abruptly, Munchy whipped around so fast only the fact that he'd jammed his feet under the ribbons around her flank saved Booster from flying over her head. Her tail briefly slashed in front of his face, a blur of untidy coral hair and trailing ribbons. Confused calls echoed through the woods as the elves tried to locate their quarry.

"I Munchy smarter than dumb elves," the pony sang out as she tore off, her neck outstretched whilst Booster clutched her hair so hard the strands dug into his hands.

"Turn around! Turn around! My stomach is still back there!"

"Munchy save one for you next time she I catch rabbit!"

The elves weren't fooled for long; they were rushing after them again. Undulating cries rose up from them as they shook their spears.

_Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!_ screamed a little mantra supplied by Booster's subconscious as Munchy's leap over a rotted log ended with an unnecessary jolt. The scenery failed to melt away to reveal his bedroom, so his hindbrain started shrieking, _Hang on! Hang on! Hang on!_ instead. Booster not only obeyed, but managed to simultaneously lean sideways and throw up. Despite his nausea, he felt a twinge of satisfaction at hearing a cry and a crash behind them a moment later as an unlucky elf made contact with half-digested raspberries at high speed.

"We lose them, Boo-ster, no worry! Oops, look out."

"What? What now?" Booster asked, straightening up just in time to meet a low branch in a head-on collision. He caught a glimpse of Munchy's speeding ahead without him before hitting the ground hard. Then there was only a blurred impression of tall figures standing over him with spears.

* * *

Some people are the logical, analytic left-brain types and some are creative, artistic right-brainers. Blue Beetle considered himself to be both. At the moment his artistic side was in full swing and Omen was his palette. 

"Hurry up, can't you?" 

"Stop moving." 

"Arrrrgh, you got it in my eyes!" 

"That--" Beetle slapped another handful of red clay on the pony's white muzzle, "--is because you won't--stop--MOVING." 

"Plllpht!" Omen blew his lips out, trying to get rid of the gritty taste. "Your friend's got quite the voice." 

"It'll make it easy to track him down," Beetle said, hands slathering wet clay down Omen's legs and telling himself that Booster's shrieks were a good sign, it meant that he hadn't been caught. "THERE, done!" He stepped back to observe the effect. Instead of a white pony with a purple mane, Omen was now a wet, lumpy looking red pony with a purple mane. 

"You call this done? I don't even have a symbol!" 

The forest floor was littered with twigs and pine needles; Beetle shoved a handful against each muddy flank and stepped back, brushing off his hands. "There. Your name is Debris." 

"I feel like an amateur pottery mug," complained Omen, aka Debris, as he trudged into the woods. 

"Look, the important thing is no one will recognize you," Beetle reasoned, reaching under his goggles to clean them again. "Now if we can just get Booster out of . . . whatever he's gotten himself into . . ." 

At that moment the distant shrieks ended abruptly. Beetle and Omen exchanged glances and jogged a little faster.

* * *

Booster opened his eyes, which immediately focused on a spearhead which was made of milky white stone, was carved elegantly to resemble a stylized fish, and was a steady three inches from his face. 

There were better ways to wake up. 

After a while he managed to drag his attention away from the spearhead enough to progress up the shaft and, finally, to the four pairs of delicately formed eyes staring down at him. 

"Wow," he said. The elves' faces were all arches and dramatic planes and their eyes glowed in brilliant shades of gold, silver, and sapphire. Even the red smears of raspberries speckling the one elf's face didn't diminish his beauty. Or maybe her beauty. Booster couldn't really tell. 

He basked in the blissful peace of their presence for a while longer before saying, "Hello." 

The elves exchanged glances, their eyes expressing unspoken arguments. Finally the spear drew back. "Who are you, stranger?" 

As hazy as the elves made him feel, Booster was never one to pass up an entrance. "I'm _Booster Gold!_ The Corporate Crusader, the Wall Street Wonder, the--" 

"You were riding the abomination into our woods," the raspberry-splattered elf said severely. 

Booster paused in mid-recietal. "No, I wasn't. I was riding Munchy." 

"You see, he admits it!" 

"Calm yourself, Elindrenadrenadir," an elf with flowing platinum blond hair urged. "He seems harmless enough. What harm can one human do? You are a human, are you not?" he added. 

"Oh yes, one hundred percent human," Booster assured, sitting up. "Mind you, I've had people call me the son of this species and that species, but that's just sour grapes--" 

"Where there's one human, there are soon more. And if he's so harmless, how did he harness the beast? More likely he's a sorceror." 

The other elves looked at Booster with skeptical interest. They seemed uninclined to agree with Elindrenadrenadir. On the other hand, they all had a firm grip on their spears. Booster decided he needed to smooth things over. 

"The truth is I'm lost." He flashed his most charming smile. "And the pony, well, I got on her and then I couldn't get off." That was true enough . . . after she picked up speed. 

"Was it a pooka, then? A ghost horse?" murmured a golden-haired elf with his hair drawn back in a braid. "'Twould fit, lurking at a crossroads to lure travellers to their doom . . ." 

"Don't be a fool, Glessalandrien," a female elf said in exasperation. "It was clearly the unnatural pony-beast. It has a stench about it." 

A slight frown creased Booster's brow. He thought it was pretty rich of the elf to call Munchy "it" when the only way Booster could differentiate said elf from the males was by the dimensions of her chest. But the presence of the elves made him feel too airy and giddy to comment, so he simply waited and gazed at them. When the undergrowth crackled and snapped behind him, he didn't even glance around. 

"There you are!" Beetle said in relief. "Thank God!" 

At that Booster did turn around. "Ted! And--and--" He gaped at the mud-red vision. 

"And De--" 

"Woodland." 

"And _Woodland,"_ Ted emphasized. "Our good friend _Woodland."_

"Oh . . . oh, right," Booster said, trying to mask his confusion. "Of course." 

The elves stared at the pony with undisguised horror. 

"Poor creature!" the platinum blond cried, eyes tearing up in sympathy. "What manner of disease plagues you, that your skin erupts in such pestilant boils?" His fingertips quivered over the pony's especially lumpy shoulders. 

"I don't have boils," Omen grumped, sidestepping. 

"No, not boils," Beetle told the elves, who leaned forward in fascinated horror, "but TUMORS!" A gasp arose from the crowd, fortunately drowning out Omen's sputtering indignation. 

"Elindrenadrenadir, we must help these travellers," said the elf with improbably blue-grey hair who hadn't spoken before. "They are in sore distress." 

"Very well. Yes. Truly it is our duty to help the lower creatures." 

Ted and Omen exchanged glances at this speech, but said nothing as Elindrenadrenadir continued, "Follow us, humans and pony. Follow us to the safety of our holding, the city among the trees, the hidden valley that offers every delight." 

"I think I saw a commercial for a retirement home like that once," Beetle said. But under his breath. His stomach was growling again. 


	24. Chapter 23: Three for Tea

**Chapter 23: Three for Tea**

* * *

Omen trudged behind the two humans, who were hissing a whispered argument back and forth, and the four elves, who occasionally gazed back at him with horrified fascination. He resisted the urge to flatten his ears back lest the clay encasing them crack. 

"I'm telling you, we should keep a low profile. We're _superheroes,_ our secret identities--"

"Oh please, who's going to recognize us here? What, you think we'll find the Poison Ivy sipping a chlorophyll smoothie in Elfville?"

"You joke, but she _does_ have an affinity for forests and trees and things."

"Huh! Not the kind that spit out _Woodland_, I'll bet. One look at him and she'd take up clearcutting." Booster cast a glance over his shoulder, eyeing the pony. "Speaking of which, why on earth . . ."

"Shhh! Later." Ted nudged Booster and made a slight but meaningful gesture towards the elves.

"Oh, them!" Booster's voice warmed. "You don't have to worry about _them._"

"You didn't seem so confident when they were trying to impale you," Omen grunted.

"It was all an innocent misunderstanding. I _know_ they're good. I can just feel it, can't you?"

Omen's head bobbed in time to his hoofbeats as he grimaced. He _could_ feel it. A strange elation thrummed through his veins and the world seemed unusually vibrant. He even had a desire to sing, although he tamped _that_ down without too much effort (having a reputation to maintain and all.) Elves had _presence_.

Stepping up his pace, the white stallion muttered to the two humans out of the side of his mouth, "Remember to keep your mouth shut about _certain things."_

"Huh?" Booster roused himself from some inner reverie.

"Keep your mouth shut," Omen insisted. "Beetle will fill you in on the details." He looked over at Blue Beetle and found him contemplating the fairy folk with a faraway expression.

"I'm gonna measure them. And then I'm gonna build a robot based on their dimensions. It'll be a masterpiece of grace and fluidity. It'll have lasers," Beetle said dreamily.

Omen rolled his eyes towards the sky in despair.

* * *

As they proceeded into the heart of the woods, scrubby bushes and sunburnt wisps of yellowing grass were replaced by lush ferns, brilliant wildflowers, gurgling brooks. Deer and rabbits stepped between the trees to stare with melting longing at the elves. Booster was enchanted by the wildlife, Omen was neutral, and Beetle was frankly irritated by them. 

"How am I supposed to invent when I'm practically tripping over badgers and things?" complained Ted. "Not to mention all of the--damn it, there they are again!" He covered his head as colorful songbirds wove past them, singing harmoniously and carrying flowers. "I feel like I'm in an Alfred Hitchcock movie! When are we going to reach civilization?"

"Right . . . now!" Elindrenadrenadir proclaimed as he swept back a silver-leafed bough, revealing a valley dominated by towering trees enormous in size, some big enough that that doorways had been carved into them. Elves walked down smooth dirt roads weaving between the trees, or hurried up staircases spiraling around the hulking trunks, or leaned on the railings of the walkways stretching from one tree to another.

The humans and pony gazed at the magical scene.

"It doesn't look like civilization to me," Beetle said. "Where's the McDonald's? Where's the strip mall? Where's the smog?"

Elindrenadrenadir's lips pursed and he didn't say another word as he stalked down the trail leading into the valley.

"Where's your _sense of humor?"_ Ted added as he followed the elf. "Oh well. It'll all be worth it if they have something to eat. Lead on, MacDuff! To the table!"

Ted had almost inured himself to the dazzlements of the small party of elves they were traveling with, but the elven settlement set him awash with new waves of glee. A desire to run, skip, and do handsprings burgeoned in him, but at the same time he felt too tranquil to act. Even Omen was prancing slightly. As for Booster, he waved at random elves while wearing a grin that Ted, even in his elated state, critiqued as dopey. Additionally the blond hopped forward with his feet together every few steps. Beetle puzzled over this for a few minutes before reminding the Corporate Crusader, "Your flight ring doesn't work, remember?"

"Oh. Oh, right!"

A savory smell led them to an elegant pavilion. Elves sat on benches on either side of a long table, while a second table held all manner of food--golden crusted pies, steaming stews, strange and brilliant fruits, wedges of rich cheese, and many more delicacies that made the travelers' mouths water. In fact, the table was loaded with everything except . . .

"Meat? No meat?" Ted said as he piled his plate high with pancakes and drowned them in syrup.

"Can't keep your bloodlust under control for a minute, can you?" Omen chided, helping himself to cookies. "Of course there's no _meat."_

"Where does the GRAVY come from, then?" Beetle said, triumphantly wielding the gravy ladle.

Omen greeted the question with half a shrug, busy helping himself to pumpkin pie.

Several elves looked at Beetle and Omen curiously as they sat down, Ted sitting on a bench and Omen sitting on the floor at the end of the table. (Booster was still hovering by the buffet, carefully constructing a corral out of carrot sticks.)

"Food, real food," Beetle groaned with happiness, lightly spraying crumbs across the table.

Omen delicately licked a flower made of pink sugar icing off the chocolate cake, leaving an imprint of his tongue in the fudge frosting. "Sweet, sweet chocolate, how I have missed you!"

"Look at you goofballs," Booster said, sitting down across from Beetle. But he said it amiably, and one of his cheeks was puffed out with a pastry besides.

Neither Ted nor Omen answered him and all three concentrated on eating for a happy half hour. Beetle finished his pancakes, went back to the table, and returned with a plate split between a generous slice of quiche, and a kind of sweet and sour salad. Booster ate a little of everything, followed by a lot of everything. Omen focused on cinnamon buns, cake, and pie ("ponies need a lot of sugar," he explained, with his mouth full) but tested mashed potatoes, a handsome wedge of cheese, and fried daylily buds as well. He had a second plate ready with buttered rolls and a bowl of stew, if he ever got to it.

By now the trio had a full audience; elves had abandoned all manner of pretense and stared openly at them, murmuring to one another in fascination. Perhaps they were amazed by the depth of the visitors' appetites, or perhaps they simply didn't get visitors very often, or perhaps Omen's lumpy red skin fascinated them. It was worth noting that none of them sat too _close._

Leaning one elbow against the table, Booster lazily balanced a fork on his finger, shifting it back and forth under the handle of the unsteady fork until it clattered to the table, which it invariably did. Ted chewed a mouthful of quiche very slowly, his face slightly green. But Omen had a stomach three times as large as a human's, and though he wasn't plowing through the food with the same gusto he'd had at the start, he thought he could manage a few more mouthfuls. Pulling an elegantly carved wooden bowl in front of him, he extended his lips and slurped up the steaming stew.

Ted closed his eyes at the sound, a pained look on his face as he swallowed his well-masticated bite of quiche down. Booster gazed away from the pony, trying to disassociate himself from him. He studied the elves instead. They were gaping now, whispering to one another and directing their perfectly formed fingers in Omen's direction.

_Well, they've probably never seen such sloppy manners before,_ Booster thought in embarrassment. He snuck a glance at Omen while shaking the crumbs out of his napkin.

After a pause, he took a second look.

The clay-red pony's lips were now a smudgy yet unmistakable white.

"Ahhh!" Booster kicked Ted frantically under the table.

"Ow! _What_ . . . ahhh!" Ted lurched to his feet, upturning a pitcher of cream as he boggled at the pony. "OmmmMY, oh my, look at the time! We've had a long day--"

"A very long day," Booster chimed in. "We should get some sleep!"

"Right now!"

"Immediately!"

Omen snorted, blowing a fleck of dried clay into the stew. "It's barely afternoon, you weirdos."

"Yes, but we're tired. All of us. Including you," Ted said firmly.

_"Especially_ you."

"If you think I'm abandoning the first good meal I've had since entering the Rainbow-forsaken wilderness," the Clydesdale growled, leaning protectively over the dishes.

"Then we'd be absolutely _right._ Right, Booster? Right. So wipe your face--" (Omen's eyes bulged as Beetle recklessly jammed a napkin into his mouth.) "--and let's go."

Despite the muffled gag, Omen made it abundantly clear that he was not going anywhere, he was not moving at all, in fact. Beetle retaliated by jabbing him hard with a fork. That got the pony moving, all right. Right at Beetle. At full speed.

They raced around and around the table, making the silverware jitter as the pony thundered by with Ted barely keeping ahead of them and Booster stood on the bench to keep out of the way. But when they started leaping over the table, Blue Beetle vaulting over the dirty dishes with Omen springing after him, Booster prudently retreated beneath the table. Several elves were crouched there already, all staring at him. An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by shrieks, pounding hoofbeats, and now and then the crash of breaking porcelain.

"I hardly know those guys," Booster said at last. The elves glanced at one another, then their eyes gravitated to him once again.

Embarrassed, Booster rose from under the tablecloth. "Lead him away from here," he advised Beetle, who accordingly lit off across the swishing green grass. Shaking his head sadly, Booster followed at a steady trot.


	25. Chapter 24: Frolics and Rollicks

Elves pride themselves on their grace and poise. But a lack thereof can be forgiven when leaping out of the way of a huge pony thundering after a fleeing human. Deep, enchanting eyes, wide with amazement, peeped from the shelter of intricately carved doorways or behind spreading oak trees.

Not that Beetle got a good look at any of them as he blurred past.

One brave elf threw open an arching doorway as he bawled, "AND HERE IS YOUR GUEST ROOM, HONORED GUESTS!" before diving out of the way. The Azure Avenger skidded inside with Omen hot on his heels and Booster running after both of them. Ted shot through the doorway, barely managing to stop before crashing into the mirrored vanity at the far end of the room. He rested his hands on his knees, panting, as Omen galloped into the room tossing his purple mane.

"What did you do that for? Stabbing me with a fork?" The pony stomped his hoof, causing a mass of hairline fractures to spiderweb up the red clay coating his leg. Nearly invisible flakes of dust settled on the polished hardwood floor.

_"That's_ why!" Beetle's finger jammed up against his reflection's as he pointed at the mirror.

"Oh _shades_, I don't believe this," the pony grumbled, staring at disgust at the image of a lumpy, red pony . . . with pure white lips. He poked at them with a hoof, causing yet more clay to sloop off and reveal his snowy white hide.

Booster snickered as he closed the door. "You look like a clown. A sad clown."

"More like an angry clown," Beetle grinned.

"Hardy har."

"Maybe they won't notice," the blue-themed superhero shrugged with easy optimism. "And if they do-"

"We'll say it's part of your horrible skin condition!"

"Right!"

"I must have been crazy to let you talk me into coming here in the first place," Omen groaned.

"That reminds me . . . Why are you hiding from the elves anyway?" Booster asked.

"You know all that stuff he had in his saddlebags?" said Beetle. "It was all stolen from the elves."

"That's not true," Omen snapped, shaking his purple mane.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot . . . He stole _some_ from the elves and the rest from the ponies in the castle."

"Omen!" Booster's blue eyes were wide with shock.

"Oh, come on. A pony's got to make a living."

"But by _stealing?"_

"Booster, to be fair, _you_ took-"

"THAT'S DIFFERENT!"

Omen raised an eyebrow. "What's different?"f

"Ahhh, nevermind, it's Booster's tale to tell."

The Clydesdale turned to the blond. "What tale?"

"He's talking about how I got my costume," Booster said sulkily. "Even though that was _completely_ different circumstances."

"The suit _and_ the time machine," Blue Beetle reminded him.

A smile began to stretch across Omen's face. "You stole them?"

"Totally _different,"_ the Corporate Crusader fumed, arms crossed. "They were in a _museum_ getting all dusty, no one was _using_ them, it wasn't really _stealing_ . . . "

"The stuff Omen took was in a vault getting all dusty," Beetle pointed out. "Anyway, I think we should stop obsessing about the past and think about what we're going to do next."

"Yeah. I can't stay here looking like this." Omen glanced in the mirror again.

"But where can we go? Not back to that castle." Booster poked at one of the stately beds furnishing the room before sitting on it.

Omen paced the length of the room. "Dreamquay, that's where. No one could find us there."

"Where's that?" Beetle asked.

"South of here. Way south. It's the biggest port in Ponyland. You can catch a ship to anywhere, you can hide anywhere, and they get all kind of species visiting on ships. It's perfect!"

"That sounds like a long trip." Booster looked dubious. "We aren't exactly expert travelers, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I have, I _have_," Omen assured him with a grimace. "But needs must when the devil drives."

Booster blinked in confusion. "What?"

"He means people do what they gotta do," Beetle translated. "Listen, you two talk about it, I'm going to see if the elves can't get my cowl off. It's driving me _crazy."_

"Good luck." Booster made sure the door latched shut after Ted left.

"So, you want to hear about Dreamquay?" Omen asked, flopping onto one of the beds.

"Sure, I guess," Booster shrugged, his foot swaying in an arc aimed at nothing in particular. "But it's a moot point for me and Beetle, you know? We don't know how to get home from your world."

"Get a pegasus to fly you across the rainbow," Omen suggested. "That's where other humans come from."

"If I meet any pegasuses that aren't trying to tar and feather me, I'll keep that in mind."

"Pegasi," Omen corrected, then paused as he remembered something. "Didn't you say that 'Justice League' of yours had special powers? Maybe they'll show up."

"More likely renting out our rooms as we speak," Booster said. They fell into silence. The human studied the door for a while before dragging a heavy oaken chair in front of it. "There! That should hold off any unwelcome guests!"

Omen snickered.

The Corporate Crusader stopped dusting off his hands. "What?"

"It _might_. If the door opened inward."

The blond groaned, throwing himself into the chair with one leg hanging over the arm. "Well, I'm not moving it. It's too heavy!"

"Lazy," scoffed the pony.

"You move it."

"Hey, it's not my chair."

"Hrrrm." Booster did his best Batman impression, but the pony was unmoved. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, the blond had to admit that he didn't look that impressive with ribbons tied through his hair. Reaching up, he fumbled with the knots. "Man, Munchy really did a number on me," he muttered.

"She did indeed." Omen watched as Booster pulled a blue ribbon down a lock of hair. "If you wanted to trade those for a little something, I could arrange it."

Booster arched an eyebrow. "What would you do with ribbons? You're a boy."

"Huh!" Omen's purple tail flicked. "Shows what you know. Stallions wear ribbons all the time!"

"All the time?"

"Well, not_ literally _all the time, that would be ridiculous." The pony blew out his lips in annoyance. "On special occasions."

"Better you than me." He tugged the last of the ribbons off a lock of his blond hair.

Omen raised his broad shoulders in a shrug. "They fetch a good price on the market."

Booster rested an elbow on the arm of the chair as he leaned forward. "Oh, so _that's_ why you want them."

Omen snorted. "So what? _You_ don't want 'em. And besides," he added in a persuasive tone, "I'll give you a fair price."

Booster Gold looked at the damp, rather beraggled ribbons in his hand. "Nah."

"Suit yourself," Omen grumbled, rubbing some clay out of his eyes.

"I hope Munchy's all right," Booster sighed as he tucked the ribbons into his pocket.

"That pony," Omen said, "could eat her way out of any danger."

"Hey, you know what we should do?" Booster sat up in the chair. "We should look for her!"

Underneath the crust of red clay, Omen blanched. "You're joking, right? Ha ha! Good one, Booster!"

"I'm _serious,"_ the human insisted, confirming the pony's worst fears. "She's all alone out there-"

"-devouring hapless woodland creatures-"

"-and she helped us out before," Booster went on, ignoring the interruption. "That makes her part of the _team."_

"Team? What team?" Omen sputtered.

"Oh, Omen. Don't you know how these things work?" Booster graced him with a sad, knowing smile. "When you meet someone new, first you fight them. Then you join forces against a common enemy and bond. And then you're a team! And then you get a secret headquarters and design a team logo and create a team theme song-well, actually J'onn said I'd live to regret it if I recorded the theme song, but I think he was joking-"

"I think you've taken one too many blows to the head."

"No, no, that's Guy Gardner. And it's true," Booster insisted. "Munchy's part of the team. We should rescue her."

"From what?"

Booster tilted his head, brow furrowed. "From . . . from herself?"

"Oh, fine," Omen grumbled, getting to his hooves. "But I want to know who's going to save _us_ when we find her."

"We should leave a note," the superhero said in the bright, cheery tone of voice that Omen was beginning to hate. "Let's see, I'm sure they've got a pen around here somewhere . . ." He opened a shallow drawer inset in the dresser and was pulling out a quill when a knock at the door caused human and pony alike to freeze.

The blond wetted his lips nervously. "Ted? Is that you?"

"I am not this Ted of whom you speak," a melodious voice came from the other side of the door. "I am Gwendreilla of the elvenkind. May I enter?" To their horror, the knob began to turn.

"NO!" Booster grabbed the handle and threw his weight backwards, bracing one leg against the wall to keep the door firmly shut. "I mean, uh, no, not _just_ yet . . ."

Omen broke from his horrified trance and leaped onto the closest bed, pulling a blanket over his head. Booster let go of the door handle and discovered, from the way the door swung wildly into the hall, that the elf had still been tugging on it.

"Sorry about that," Booster apologized as a dark-haired elf of unearthly beauty entered, though perhaps she would have appeared both more unearthly and more beautiful if she hadn't been rubbing a bruise on her elbow and frowning. Booster awkwardly dragged the heavy chair away from the door. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Ah! I come rather to see what I may do for _you,"_ the elf said, recovering her smile. "I have come to invite you to our festival tonight, travellers . . . three." Confusion dawned on her face as she glanced around the room.

"Oh, the other two travellers, right . . . Well, Om-_Woodland_-is asleep-" Horrible, guttural snores began to issue from the pile of blankets on the bed. "-and my buddy Ted just stepped out."

"Ah, perhaps he is already at the festival, then," the elf said.

"Could be. He always likes a party."

"Oh, let us wake your pony friend and join the festivities!" the elf exclaimed, flitting past Booster to reach her thin, delicate hand towards the blanket.

"NO!" Booster grabbed her wrist pulled her away so quickly that she spun up against him. He cleared his throat and let go. "Uh, no. He's got . . . a sleeping disorder, you see."

"Not . . . not the dread nacrolepsy?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes. Yes, that's exactly what he has." Booster wished Omen would stop snoring so damn loud.

"How tragic." Her eyelashes lowered, pearly tears welling in sympathy.

"Um." Booster tried to think of what to say to this and failed. His arms swung slightly, like uncertain pendulums.

"Still, there is nothing to prevent you from joining our celebration, good sir," Gwendreilla smiled, tears disappearing.

"Oh no. No, I don't think so. I have to be here in case he wakes up."

"But sir," she caught his hand in a grip as sleek and cool as ivory. "There will be songs and wonders and all manner of joyous celebration, long into the night!"

"That's nice . . ." He subtly tried to disengage his hand.

The elf leaned close, the lamplight catching on her raven hair as she smiled at him from under long lashes. "Do you not wish to frolic with me long into the night?"

Booster met her deep violet eyes, then flicked quickly to the lump of blankets on the bed. "You know what? I'm sure he'll be fine without me. Lead on!"

The elf giggled and pulled him out the door into the twilight.

* * *

Ted sighed with relief as he finally, _finally_ dragged his goggled cowl off his head. Sure, it had taken three hours of lying on a bench leaning his head WAY back because the elven craftsman had insisted on releasing the catch rather than sawing through the strap, but it had been _worth it._ "Thanks again," he told the elven blacksmith.

The elf waved away his thanks. "Twas an honor for a welcome guest such as yourself! I only hope on day you will share with me the wisdom of your cunning locks and devices, oh Beetle of Blue!"

Ted smiled and retreated quickly; he could see why elves got on the nerves after a while. Well, no matter. The important thing-he ran his fingers through his auburn hair-the important thing was that his head was free of that sweat-dome he called a mask. Humming a happy little tune, he sauntered back towards the guest quarters. Some kind of celebration was taking place on the other side of the elven village, but he shook his head with a smile when a few elves dashing past called for him to join the fun. Tonight, Ted Kord was going to take it easy . . .

He pulled open the guestroom door and was greeted to the sight of a Clydesdale, white splotched with off-color reddish patches, sitting in front of the mirror.

"What the-" He pulled the door closed quickly. "Omen, _what are you doing?"_

Omen stopped gnawing at the feathering around his hooves to glare at him. "What does it look like? I'm getting back to normal, thank you very much."

"But your disguise," Beetle objected, eyeing the flakes of clay encircling the pony.

"They would've noticed anyway. 'Sad clown,' remember." Omen blew his lips out at Ted sarcastically.

"Hey, don't blame me for Booster's words," Beetle admonished. A fear crept into his soul as his eyes swept around the room. "Er, Omen? Where _is_ Booster?"

The Clydesdale snickered. "'Frolicking' with an elf, unless I miss my guess."

"Oh, great. Prancing around in stolen clothes, just great."

_"Maybe_ he's in them, maybe not," Omen leered.

"You're as bad as Guy Gardner . . . No, no, never mind who he is, it doesn't matter. Listen, now that you're denuded, so to speak-"

"Ponies are always nude. Except on special occasions."

Ted's forehead crinkled above his blue eyes. "Please. Please stop, I don't want to think about it that way, ever."

"Yet it's true."

_"Anyway_, now that your disguise is gone, we should think about leaving soon. Like tonight."

"While they're engrossed in the festival," Omen nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense."

"Yeah, but before we can make tracks we need to find Booster."

"I knew you'd want to wait around for him." Omen heaved a sigh.

"Here's the plan. I'll go out looking for him and you-" He cut himself off at the sound of uneven footsteps in the hall.

Before Omen could even dive for the bedsheets, the door creaked open to reveal Booster Gold, his hair and ribbons disheveled and his expression sour. "When elves say 'frolic' they mean 'DANCE,'" he ground out, limping into the room.

Omen and Beetle exchanged looks. "Bwahahaha!"

"It's not funny! Those pointy-eared devils wouldn't let me off the sprocking dance floor! 'Oh, please dance with me, golden stranger!' 'Ah, I can't keep you to myself, dear sir, it would be a sore insult if I did not allow my ten sisters a turn!' _Ten sisters!"_ Booster took on an expression of despair. "And _nine brothers!"_

By this time Blue Beetle's laughter came in such frequent waves that he was almost choking on his mirth, while Omen rolled on the floor, tears of merriment streaming from his eyes. They were laughing so loudly that none of the three noticed the firm footsteps marching down the hallway until the door swung open. Omen, Booster, and Beetle found themselves gaping at a group of stony-faced, well-armed elves.

"SO!" The tallest elf glared at them from under his helmet. "What do you have to say for yourselves, eh?"

"It's his fault," Booster and Beetle chorused, pointing at each other.

The guard was not amused. His eyes turned to Booster, recoiling slightly as if the sight of him was almost too awful much to bear. "So!" he gasped, "It's true! You are in league with the thief who ravaged our shops before stealing off in the night-the very threads you wear condemn you, you _fiend!"_

"Well, 'fiend' is a little harsh, don't you think?" Booster laughed nervously, but the elven guard was busy giving an even more dramatic gasp as he stabbed a finger towards Omen.

"And _you,_ I recognize you! You are the deceiver who befooled us with false smiles before robbing our glade!"

"Charmed, I'm sure," Omen sneered, stepping backwards.

"Booster, ol' buddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it's time to do what we do best," Ted said solemnly.

Booster cocked his head in thought. "Run away?"

"Got it in one," Beetle said, diving for the window.


End file.
